In You I Trust
by virtualailee
Summary: "If every poison has a cure, then what overcomes Lily's protection over Harry?" Lord Voldemort was furious. Seriously wounded, Severus Snape fled his Master's side. He awoke at 12 Grimmauld Place with a mission and an unwilling partner.
1. I See You

_He remembered it well, so well, how the sun shone brightly that summer morning. How the breeze rushed through the foliage of the mighty oak tree behind his house. His house? Yes, his house was close by. Now it started to carry a woman's piercing shriek against a man's thunderous roar. They were at it again. Then he heard a chair crashed onto the ground; a woman's cry. He could almost see it in his mind – the bruises on the woman's face where the man had just struck. How she would sob and spit at the bitter fate of this ill-fated marriage. A lifetime wasted with a drunk! A dead beat father! His father._

_He heard the front door swung open. He heard the door bounced off the walls, rattling the window sills as it went. He heard heavy clamouring of boots on the dry soil. Footsteps that sounded clearer with each taken. He knew he had to run for it. Run away as far as he could or end up bloody on the floor like his mother. He sprinted towards the hedge and he knew he was discovered. Found out. He heard angry words and curses behind him. Something about don't darken our doorsteps again. What lie! He would be expected for dinner later. He probably should expect a good round of beating for supper too. _

_He ducked under the thicket and continued his run to the neighbouring house. It was a lovely house. He saw two girls skipping ropes near the front yard. He ran harder. He was so close. He could hear them laugh, could see her red hair reflecting the midday sun. And she turned to him. Saw him. Smiled at him. Almost greeted him hello when a pair of thick, hairy arms seized him by his collar._

"Crucio."

A dark figure writhed on the stone floor. Silent screams reverberated within the dungeons. His hands grappled madly at stray straws littering the ground. His back arched. His nerves fried. His heart threatened to give out. Then it ceased. His chest felt so tight he could hardly breathe. He was not even aware of his torturer crouching beside him.

"Severus… how disappointing."

Snape barely registered his name. A hissing, so uncouth spilled from his Master's sneering lips. He blinked away the delirium that was clouding his vision. He looked into his Master's red eyes, seething, wrathful. Then he felt the familiar tip of a wand pressing into his side. Shakily, he breathed, "My Lord…"

A burst of white filled his eyes and his blood splattered against the wall. His sides, punctured and torn, stained both the grimy floor and his Master's offending wand red.

"Legilimens."

_Neighbours often wondered at the queer sight of little Severus Snape with his newfound friend. The boy had always been a loner. And now look at him! He had found himself a little girl for company. A pretty one at that. And not just any pretty little girl; the Evans were thought to be pretty strict with whom they allow to mingle with the girls. What an odd couple they make. A rowdy looking chum with a dainty little thing? _

_But Lily did not care. She saw something else in him. _

"_Hey Sev," she said one day, throwing a polished apple at him. With her other hand, she brandished a scroll bearing the grand crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "Where's yours?"_

_He smiled. "We'll actually go to school together, Lily!"_

Snape gasped, his breathing rattling his laboured lungs. He could not think, he could not move, he could not _feel. _His memories now lay bare before Lord Voldemort. Naked, helpless as the Dark Lord Crucio'd and raped the very fabric of his consciousness for what seemed like eternity. He could no longer tell apart the present from the past. Lily fleeted in and out of his mind. Once he thought he had died, and that she had come to collect him, until pain seared through his broken body again.

"Is this memory important to you, Severus?"

Snape coughed wetly. He was so close to seeing Lily's smile again.

"Why the need to shield this with your mastery in Occlumency? What is the worth of this memory?"

Voldemort's weight shifted. He could be magically hovering above Snape's prone figure; he could be straddling his sides. All Snape could see was how close his Master's visage was to his. Voldemort's cold breath caressed his clammy face, and the next sentence was as poisonous, "So I see now that your heart lies with Lily Potter." Voldemort drew himself up. "Love," he hissed vehemently, "Is that what I sense?"

_He saw it all; Lily charging towards a brick wall with a trolley full of stuff. Lily sharing a compartment on Hogwarts Express with him. Lily sitting beside him on the boat as they drifted steadily towards the grand castle beyond. Lily putting on the Sorting Hat. Lily…_

"Fool. Crucio."

* * *

"OH YOU DISGRACEFUL THRASH, ABOMINATION TO THE HOUSE OF BLACK! WHAT WILL MY FATHER SAY OF YOUR INSOLENCE –"

"Oh, shut up."

With a lazy flick of his wand, the black drapes closed over the abusive portrait. As if that helped anything at all, Sirius sighed. Outside, trees almost bent over double as they stood staunchly against the wind. Rain drops splattered over his roofs and window panes. The hurricane was atrocious it probably could have drowned his mother's screams. As thunder boomed, the house shook and the black drapes over the portrait curled upwards again. Obviously fed up with his fruitless efforts in earning some peace of mind (Mrs Black was pulling a banshee again), he turned his back against the stupid hallway, heading for his room. Halfway up the first flight of steps though, he heard a loud thump on his front door. Did a tree just got uprooted? Well that could be a good thing. No more stupid members from the Order coming in to take advantage of what warmth and shelter this stupid house could provide from the stupid hurricane. Sirius started upwards again when he heard the unmistaken pounding on his door. _Twice_.

Irritated, he bellowed from where he was, "Just open the bloody door, would you!"

The door silenced.

Sirius tore down the hallway. Now he had got to be the bell boy too, huh. He pulled the door open with such a force that put Hagrid to shame, and felt the storm pouring on him. But at his feet, a black hooded figure lay slumped. Rain droplets washed crimson down his sides and there was a stillness that unnerved Sirius as his eyes roamed over his visitor.

Lightning flashed, illuminating a slither of the face.

Sirius scowled. "_Snape_?"


	2. What the Dark Lord Did

It seemed to Snape that his world had yet to stop spinning after that strenuous Apparition. He thought it was no longer than half an hour ago that Lord Voldemort's presence vanished from the dungeon where he was kept prisoned. Either that or he himself had started to fade. He was not quite sure how he managed to hold onto his wand and Apparate. He was anticipating a Splinch as he held on dearly to consciousness. When he thudded against solid ground again, he willed himself to look up, but all he could see was darkness. Did he fail? Then he felt cold water pelting against him. His sides burnt as rain seeped into his wounds and what little warmth he had leached out of his weakened body.

Snape pushed himself to his knees, one shaky hand holding his bleeding side. He had no idea where he was now, just that he was out in the open. In the middle of a thunderstorm more like. But he knew there was something familiar about this… neighbourhood, though it was not his absolute intention to get here in the first place. He forged ahead on unsteady legs, jarring his injuries as he did. It felt like ages before he came to rest upon a sullen wooden door twice as tall as he was, embellished with a somewhat tarnished plaque bearing the number 12. Snape slumped against the door, suddenly too tired to stand. He banged his fist against it, leaving a smear of red.

Then he dreamed of warmth and comfort. His clothes were neither caked with blood nor soggy with rain. No more abrasions on his flesh. But he did hear a muffled shift in the distance. Could not really be his imagination as he felt the soft ground beneath him sink a little. Something was staring at him; he could feel eyes boring holes into his skull. But tried as he might, he could see nothing. Defenceless again, are we? If only he could lift his fingers. Get hold of his wand. Blast this person apart.

"Hey!" a faraway voice called out. "Come out of it!"

And like a Thestral taking off into the midnight sky, Snape's eyelids flew open as he let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. As moonlight streamed into his wakefulness, Snape bridled his wild gazes, settling them upon a shadowy figure who was stooping slightly over him, probably a man; tall, unkempt. He could feel this person's strong grasp on his shoulder. Snape edged away, and he was let go.

The man took his place on the opposite corner of the dim room, leaning against the wall with his arms tucked across his chest. There was a moment silence before the intense stares were on him again.

"Black," he finally acknowledged wearily.

Sirius regarded the lying form before him. Pallid from blood lost and severely dishevelled, Sirius had had a good guess at what went wrong. When he levitated Snape into the downstairs bedroom, he was made aware of a cut open gash that ran across Snape's lower abdomen to half his back. Any physical contact, no matter how delicate, evoked a quiver. It was after Sirius magicked away the filthy clothing off his back that Sirius took in the extent of his endured abuses. Bruises and fractures that littered his body Sirius could mend, but even after exhausting all knowledge on magical healing and potions, the singular slash remained painfully open. Sirius had started applying sterile bandages over it when Snape decided to go into a violent fit.

But that was about ten seconds ago. Sirius returned the tired scowl that Snape had just threw at him.

"I'll send an owl to Dumbledore saying his most trusted associate is on his deathbed."

He detected Snape's passing worried expression at his words. A whispered question he heard, "Where's Dumbledore?"

"Not here. Left for Russia early this morning. Clearly he missed notifying one member of the Order." Sirius then pressed his gaze on Snape. "Those with half a brain know you were out there holding hands with your Death Eater mates. Then one night they decide to make you their piñata?" Sirius unfolded his arms. His visage sank deeper into the shadows as he muttered, "You alive is enough a statement to say Voldemort hasn't suspected betrayals. Not a hunted man either since I don't see Death Eaters barging down the front door after you."

"I was alone. There wasn't anyone tailing."

Snape clenched his jaws as he tried to pull himself up into a sit. Sirius watched, still, when he cocked his head at an angle and smirked, "Who got a one up on dear Snivellus? They got in a pretty good curse. Magical healing can't seem to close it."

Now half-sitting and slightly panting, Snape pressed a hand into the bandages. "The Dark Lord… wasn't pleased." Hand still clutching at his side, he made to get up only to have to lean heavily against the nightstand. "Dumbledore... I need to speak with him."

"Unless you plan to Apparate to Russia, an owl should be able to reach him in a couple of weeks."

"No time," Snape gasped. That lurching sensation he felt when he once fell off a tree branch was tugging at his chest. Suddenly breathing became remotely impossible. Sirius was beside him again, a vice grip around his biceps. An involuntary shudder coursed his body and Sirius released his hold. Snape pulled his new, dry cloak around his body, shrouding his hand that had crept to clutch at his ribcage, just over his heart. He could feel it beat maddeningly. But this could wait, this had to wait. He had no time.

He pushed his way to the door. Sirius followed him closely, obviously disturbed at the man's obstinacy. He could see the bandages glistening still; fresh blood continued to ooze out of Snape's veins. Snape barely got to the hallway when he had to lean against the door frame, thoroughly winded. Through his foggy vision he discerned Sirius' chidings, "This could be a close shave, but another one like this and Voldemort's going to be your death."

Snape blinked away his pain. His lips curled very briefly into a satisfied smile, just before unconsciousness consumed him.


	3. First Lead

It was morning again when Snape came to. He groaned inwardly at the chirps of robins and the subtle billowing of the worn, greyish curtains; someone must have opened the window after the storm had passed that night. Yet the start of the day meant another day wasted on idleness when something urgent had to be done. Having decided not to linger a moment longer in Grimmauld Place, Snape peeled the comforter off him and slipped a hand under his pillow. He frowned; where was that familiar slender wand of his? He fumbled around and upset the pillow even to see for himself where it had gone to.

There really was nothing whatsoever under his bloody pillow.

"Missing something?"

Snape turned to the voice abruptly. Sirius Black, standing stolidly by the entrance way holding a wand – _his _wand – with those grubby paws. He growled, each word punctuated with deliberation, "Give me my wand."

Sirius surveyed those piercing black eyes evenly. When Snape collapsed near the hallway yesterday night, he had to pick the bleeding form up and haul him back to the bed. Obviously out cold, Sirius thought he was not going to have a repeat of such incident; Snape may be just normally built but he was by no means feather-light. If confiscating his wand would confine him to his bed, then why the hell would Sirius not do it? Save him loads of trouble for one. So naturally, Sirius pocketed the wand and replied tersely, "No."

"Black!"

Sirius sank into an adjacent armchair. The seat was still imprinted with the curve of his bottom having spent the entire night in it watching over one currently angry, _very _angry, Snape. But who was he trying to kid? Not one tremble go by Sirius unnoticed, and though he could feel Snape's wand vibrating in his pocket – reacting to the master's wish for its return – he merely smoothed a hand over it and sank deeper into his chair.

"Thieving scoundrel, I swear the moment I get it back –"

"What? Planning to bleed on me into Thursday?"

But Snape was obviously getting impatient. Sirius caught the passing grimace that was quickly replaced with a glower that could make the bravest Gryffindor student cower, as Snape swung his legs over the bedside and clutched at the nightstand for support. His terribly crumpled robes hung loosely over him, giving off an impression of a prisoner kept away too long from proper sustenance. Snape traipsed towards Sirius, one arm reaching out with his palm outstretched.

"For goodness sake, Black! We're not children anymore –"

"I'm not playing games either, Snape. There're only two of us in this house and only one is fit to carry whatever pressing news you have for Dumbledore."

Snape stopped in his steps. He was hunched a little, the pain starting to flare up in his side. Sirius seemed to notice this too; his attention had briefly diverted to the bandages before engaging those dark irises again. "The Order needs someone to stand-by here anyway, so you can stay and get healed when I'm away. I don't see any other options here."

"It's not a simple note that I can entrust to a secondary messenger."

"Well then just write it in a scroll and rub in enchantment. I can carry –"

"It's too risky! It has to be passed directly to him, _by me._"

"OK then," Sirius scoffed, "the door's that way. Walk out yourself."

"Tired of hiding in your mother's palace, Black?" Snape replied nastily. "Maybe that explains your eagerness for leaving here even to play the Order's postman. Maybe the mongrel is done with staying indoor his kennel for too long."

Suddenly Sirius was before him, menacing, with his wand jabbing at Snape's chest. He was livid; the edges of his lips were half-hanging as if a hex was just about to escape. His thoughts were a train wreck and nothing seemed coherent enough that he was just lost in his rage. With what seemed to be utmost control, Sirius lowered his wand and stalked off the room without as much as another word. It seemed that having Snape around would accomplish what Azkaban did not; drive him insane.

* * *

It was near dinner time when Sirius returned to the room that was holding Snape. He found the other man lying on the bed again with his head tilted towards the wall. So he kicked the door open and trudged his way through with heavy stomps, ensuring there was a ruckus going on wherever he was. But still Snape lay motionless on his back. Resigned, Sirius pulled a chair by the bed and started changing the bandages. He knotted the edge of the dressings harshly, hoping it would jerk Snape awake. Again, he did not move. In fact, his quiet, light breathing was the only sign of his living presence. It was when Sirius started for the door that Snape finally spoke, raspy, "I need to look for a wizard."

Snape had been doing a lot of thinking since Sirius took his wand away. He was going to send a message out to Dumbledore, partly a warning and partly to seek counsel for what the next move should be. Now that he had no means of contacting the Headmaster in anyway, he was left with the least attractive alternative – making the decision himself. He had made terrible choices in the past and this was going to impact the whole wizarding world. It was an awful load of responsibility to shoulder.

"Right," Sirius said, breaking Snape off his reveries. "You need to look for a wizard. Name and location?"

At this, Snape's lips thinned. Sirius turned to look fully at the other man. "You mean to say, you got no lead on this wizard that we're supposed to be looking for?"

"No, and no." Snape grimaced at the tightness that was clinging to his side. This time he managed to sit up with lesser effort – all the rest he had was contributing finally. "I may not know who and where this wizard is but I do know where to start looking. The Dark Lord would have appointed his trusted followers for this task, and I think Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy would be his choice candidates. The Death Eaters mostly operate from within the Malfoy manor. And I'll make this clear now, there's no '_we_' in this trip."

There was a moment's pause as all the words sank in. Sirius absent mindedly licked his bottom lip as the cogs in his head rotated. The more he thought he understood Snape, the more questions erupted. He decided to settle with the most apparent one, "What's all this risk for?"

Snape who wholly expected it, replied jadedly, "This person knows how to overcome the protective magic that flows in Potter's veins. His… mother's sacrifice can be undone."


	4. First Step

He had trusted Dumbledore so. That the second Lily surrendered her life for Harry's, the most powerful protection known was bestowed unto the boy. That this sacrificial love a mother would be so strong that it thwarted the most evil Dark Lord for good. The power of love has no imperfections. He had trusted Dumbledore so. How could Snape even _suggest _the idea of such power to be possibly broken?

"Every poison has its antidotes," Snape sighed from his bed. "It is foolish to think that there is one single thing that champions all other in something as ephemeral as this… reality."

So things happened in circles, that Sirius get. Like a game of rock, paper, scissors really. One has an advantage over the other, but neither the most superior. So did o' wise Dumbledore make a mistake? Sirius paced the room, thinking, digesting Snape's words. 15 years ago who would have thought that Lord Voldemort could ever be vanquished? But he was, and at this point of time, the notion of something greater that could overpower the magic that spelt Voldemort's downfall was not so far-fetched after all.

"I've wasted enough time here," Snape said suddenly. Sirius paused in his steps and looked over at the other man. "What're you doing?" he asked as Snape started tugging at the opening of his robes. He grimaced at the sight of the bandages that were beginning to stain crimson again.

"My wand."

There was no hint of exasperation as Snape gestured for his wand, as if he had forgotten that his wand was initially taken unconsented. He seemed to be deeply sunken in his thoughts and was merely holding out his right hand, fully expecting Sirius to actually give it back to him. Even more curiously, Sirius obliged, tossing it lightly to the outreaching arm which caught it deftly. Snape had begun to undo the newly changed bandages, unravelling it from around his waist. It fell into a loose heap on the wooden floor.

"What are you –"

Snape pressed his wand into his side. His lips thinned at the impact. Then he sang, or at least it sounded like singing to Sirius. There was a kind of rhythm that flowed with the arcane words that accompanied the wand which was tracing the edge of the ugly wound. Sirius watched in muddled amusement as the gash closed somewhat, leaving a fresh trail of scarring tissue. Twice now Snape had winced visibly, but that did not stop him from his whispery, melodious chanting. His effort obviously sapped his strength as Sirius noted the slight angle at which his wand hung from his unsteady grip, and how beads of cold sweat glistened on his forehead. Soon after, the room became ghastly quiet again. Snape leaned against the headboard, gingerly running a palm across the now closed wound.

"You're not dying anymore are you?" Sirius asked brusquely. Snape's eyes narrowed as he pulled his robes close. "Disappointed, Black?" he hissed.

Then something creaked at the entrance. Instinctively Snape's grip on his wand tightened at the intrusion while Sirius who had whisked around fiercely, had too, his wand aloft ready for battle. The door was only somewhat ajar to reveal a wrinkled face just three feet from the ground. Kreacher the house elf had poked his head where he was not supposed to.

"What do you want?" Sirius snapped, pulling the door open so suddenly that Kreacher almost lost his footing and fell. The house elf looked around the room shiftily before his dry, dark eyes locked with Snape's.

"Kreacher saw bloody bandages in the kitchen and wondered who they belong to. Kreacher wondered…" and he looked up at Sirius, a foul hopeful grin in place, "if Master had gotten into _trouble._"

And Sirius ceased him by his scruffy collar. "You're the one who'll be in _trouble _if you keep nosing around other people's business!" He threw Kreacher out of the room unceremoniously. Snape heard the house elf landed in the hallway cursing the name of Sirius Black. How curious is this behaviour, he thought, for a supposedly servile creature to be so hostile towards its rightful master?

"If I catch you at places where you don't belong, you'll know how _trouble _feels!" And with that, Sirius slammed the door shut just when Kreacher left the floor with a resounding _crack_! But a split second later, Sirius' mouth hanged open and a look of realisation crossed his visage.

"Kreacher!" he called. The familiar _crack! _interrupted the silence of the room once more and Kreacher was there in the middle, hunkering in between the wizards.

"What," Kreacher started slowly, the syllable laced with such malice, "does _Master _want from Kreacher, he wonders?"

"Snape, this is our answer," Sirius said, his voice tingling with a hint of triumph. "We need someone who can infiltrate Malfoy's manor. Someone who can Apparate in and out of a magically secured confinement. A house elf!"

Now Snape could see where this excitement was coming from. He studied Kreacher. Could he trust this creature? He had seen how the house elf looked at his master. He recognised those gazes, like it was wishing a thousand years of woe to befall the last heir to the name of Black. There was naught a shred of loyalty or respect left for Sirius. All that bonded Kreacher to his master was the hollow family name. How could Snape trust something so treacherous?

"Nothing complicated. We cast Disillusioned on ourselves and have Kreacher hide our presence. We get out the moment we gather all the information we need."

Snape tilted his head back, leaning against the wall. He checked the dark spots at one corner of the ceiling. "You're staying at the Headquarters. I'll infiltrate the manor alone."

Then Sirius advanced towards the bed, levelling his gaze with Snape's. "Get it over your air-filled head, Snivellus," he snarled. "This is Harry we're talking about. For all we know, the minute those filth started talking you could've rolled over and dropped dead. I'm not going to let the fate of my godson lie in the hand of a half-dying man." Then Sirius straightened up. "Least of all, yours."

Animosity weighed heavily between them. Snape could feel his wand vibrating in his grip. He recognised the identical hatred and frustration that Kreacher harboured for his master coursing along the very wood of his wand. Give him a reason and he would. Give him a reason and he would end the miserable life of a bully, a coward who had done nothing significant after his grand escapade but hiding. A pitiful existence indeed.

"So be it."


	5. I Hear You

The skyline had turned orange and shadows darkened upon Grimmauld Place yet again. It was dusk, and Kreacher had just set off to the Malfoy's manor to check if Bellatrix Lestrange had made her trip down or not. Not wanting to stand around waiting for Kreacher's news and fidget as time passes, they preoccupied themselves with some preliminary packing for the trip that was to come. Sirius overturned his house in search for fresh potion ingredients (though there were hardly anything fresh around here) and unopened potion bottles while Snape arranged whatever Sirius had produced into a magically shrunken Muggle suitcase. It was not much, Snape surmised, but this was all they had.

They heard nothing from Kreacher even though dinner had long past and Sirius was just about to get a bottle of Butterbeer when the house elf appeared right in front of him.

"About bloody time," Sirius said anxiously, turning his heels to Kreacher. "Is Bella there?"

The house elf nodded once curtly. "Mistress has just arrived. She is headed for the dining hall. Kreacher thinks," he turned to Snape, "that the attic above the dining hall is suitable for… _eavesdropping._"

"Perfect."

Sirius grabbed Kreacher by his collar at which the house elf gave out a surprised yelp and strode over to Snape. He stopped just two steps away, holding a struggling Kreacher with two choking arms, then looked at Snape expectantly. Snape had already had his wand at ready; he muttered the incantation for Disillusionment and rapped the tip on both Sirius and Kreacher's head. The house elf spat and shuddered at the slimy, cold sensation as his body took the appearance of his surroundings. Sirius too was slowly blending into the background. Satisfied with the effects, Snape turned the wand onto himself and performed the same charm. His ankles were only starting to change colour when he felt a strong grip came upon his shoulders.

"Take us there, Kreacher," Sirius ordered.

Then the darkened room swirled into nothingness. The solid ground beneath their feet sort of melted while their bodies banged into each other. It almost felt like they were being squeezed through a running washing machine. When they thought it could not get worse, their world stopped spinning so abruptly and the air seemed so dense and solid. Snape hit the floor hard with his knees and that sort of jerked him aware of his whereabouts. He inhaled deeply, relieved that air could fill his lungs again.

"All right," Sirius whispered after three seconds of uncomfortable pause, "look for a loose plank that gives a good view of what's below. And Kreacher," he tugged at the house elf's collar, "I forbid you from making any noises, or trying to communicate with anyone else other than the two of us, or do anything that may jeopardise our position." Kreacher struggled noiselessly in Sirius' grasp but nodded nevertheless, as much as it was against his own will. Snape had already detected faint voices that were Bella's and gently removed a shaky wooden floorboard not far from where he was kneeling. Light from the dining hall streamed into the dim attic.

"Greyback said the monk was last sighted in Kent."

Snape felt Sirius' robes rustle against his. Kreacher stood by the wall obediently as his master crept closer to the hole in their ground.

"That's still too vague. We need to narrow down our list of locations."

Bellatrix crackled. Sirius bowed lower, trying to have a glimpse at the scene downstairs.

"Look what I've got."

They could see her twirl a little vial in one hand. What it contained was not hard to guess; it glimmered silver, possessing neither liquid nor gaseous forms – a memory.

"Greyback's," she chimed triumphantly, settling it down on the polished table with a hard tap. Then she stood up and went to the fireplace. The vial lay forgotten on the table top. Such a grand opportunity should not be wasted! Sirius' attention switched between the conversing Death Eaters and the vial. It was a risk, a huge one, but it was now or never. He whipped his wand out.

"Not now," Snape hissed edgily, pulling at his sleeves.

"He saw the monk while on a hunt," Bellatrix flopped on her seat once more. She picked up the vial, gave the content a nice swirl before tucking it snugly in between her bosoms. Sirius lowered his wand dejectedly seeing his chance cancelled before him. Thoroughly annoyed, he snatched his sleeves from Snape's grip.

And then, a trapdoor from the other end of the attic opened. The wizards froze, caught entirely by surprise by the unexpected intruder. Snape quickly searched the space for Kreacher and sensed the house elf standing on tiptoes at the corner where Sirius had left him, unmoving. He then turned to Sirius. He too seemed to be calculating their next move. Then he squinted into the attic, trying to discern the silhouette that was slowly approaching.

Draco Malfoy with his wand alight was treading with utmost care. It seemed to Snape that the boy, too did not want his presence noticed. Twice, he stopped to listen to no doubt the curious dialogue that was taking place beneath him. It was as if he was up here without permission. Draco lifted his wand and looked around at the dusty boxes and chests that were neatly arranged along the perimeter. Luck clearly was not in their favour; Draco had taken a particular interest in an antique chest that was sitting on a pedestal right beside Sirius.

"I've watched this, Lucius," Bellatrix drawled, "and I've seen what that idiot missed. A landmark that'll lead us to one place."

Snape's attention snapped back to the conversation below. This was the golden piece of information they were waiting for.

"But I've to warn ya, I heard the monk is as addled as the Longbottoms. Lost his memories or some sort."

"Well then that wouldn't do us any good, would it, Bella?" Lucius asked testily.

They heard Bellatrix crackled again. Draco paused in his steps immediately. It was then that he noticed the light streaming through the planks. He frowned.

"Since when a little bit of memory loss prevents us from getting our answers? Surely you haven't forgotten what a teeny bit of _pain _can do? I seem to remember how useful it is in… jogging back memories." Bellatrix hurled her right arm, wand in place towards an unsuspecting house elf that was totting a tray full of scones. "Crucio!"

Sirius' forehead creased in disgust as he witnessed his cousin's cruelty. The tray that was laden with scones clanked onto the marble floor. The elf thrashed about soundlessly, too pained to make a peep. But to Sirius' left, someone else was twitching too. Snape's breath hitched when he first heard Bellatrix' curse. His hand came to clutch at his chest as he imagined how the house elf down there responded to the torture. He thought he felt his body on fire again, with hundreds of scalpels slicing through his flesh, a cut inside a cut, and an audible gasp slipped between his clenched jaws.

Draco directed his wand to a spot one meter away from Snape. He inched closer one deliberate step at a time. He swore he heard something just now.

"HAHAHA! THEN I'LL ASK 'DO YOU REMEMBER IT NOW, STUPID MONK'?"

"Enough!"

A loud _crack! _resonated within the room; the house elf had Apparated out upon Lucius' dismissal. A dining chair scrapped against the floor as Lucius rose to pace the hall.

"What landmark were you talking about just now?"

Draco pointed his wand downwards. Snape's eyes followed it and what he saw rooted him to the ground – dark red blood drops. He slithered a hand to his side and pressed down, quite surprised to find sticky warmth dampening his robes. Draco stood up violently, whipping his wand around him in circles. Suddenly everything felt like going wrong. Snape's heart started thumping rebelliously against his ribcage.

"A temple. I saw a red temple where the monk lives."

Sirius lifted his wand, ready to take Draco down. But Snape swiftly caught Sirius by the wrist and with his free arm, he scrabbled for Kreacher. Then the familiar sickening sensation of being squeezed through a washing machine washed over him before it all ended with a slam into solid ground. They were back in the downstairs room of Grimmauld Place.


	6. Shadows of Pain

The gloom of the room had never been so welcoming. Sirius landed with a thud on the half-rotten carpet with a huge grin intact. His eyes gleamed brightly against the amber ashes in the fireplace. A deep, quiet laughter erupted from his throat, "That was great!" He walked the length of the room towards the windows. "I have to say, that was really great. How long has it been, years?" He spun around, his face lit with excitement. Sirius had been cooped up for far too long in this place to relish a simple fifteen-minute espionage to a Death Eater's manor. He did not care if the only one present to share this brimming joy was Snape. Only Snape was hardly listening. His body was still on the cold floor, his black robes strewn carelessly around him. Sirius' grin died a little.

"Oi!"

In three long strides Sirius found himself bent over the other man. He reached a hand out to shake Snape about the shoulders when the unmoving body gave a sudden, jerky shudder. Sirius pulled back and soon after found himself flung against the wall on the other end of the space. His shocked yelp caught in his lungs when he smashed heavily into a cabinet; the chinaware it contained shattered under his weight. "Bloody _hell_…" he muttered in between inhales. He looked up at Snape and saw him half crouching, his wand pointed at Sirius from under his robes.

"Stupefy!" a shot of red zipped towards Snape. Wordlessly the Stunning spell was deflected. Sirius whipped two more, buying himself more time to get up on his feet. On both counts, Snape effectively deflected them. When he lifted his head, Sirius finally saw his visage clearly for the first time since their trip to the manor; tired, pained and worse, murderous. The grin came back to Sirius as the wizards swapped curses and hexes. Kreacher watched from the corner he was standing at, sometimes clapping when he thought a curse was going to hit Sirius and moaned in disappointment when it did not. He eventually Disapparated when a stream of yellow almost hit him in his ears. By then, the room was almost torn down to bits. Smaller furniture was either reduced to smithereens or smouldering while the bed was hardly recognizable anymore. Sirius leaned against the wall, panting. He had yet to spar with Snape since their time as schoolboys and back then, Snape was as easy as a fly. Always losing his wand, he remembered. But the man that stood before him, Sirius had to admit grudgingly, was indeed a formidable dueller. Neither had managed to land a good hit; the singed cotton of Sirius' cuffs was the only successful contact.

Sirius' eyes narrowed just as he saw Snape's white fingers tightened around his wand. A shaky, hollow voice resounded clearly in the quiet space, "A…vada…"

The bestial instinct for survival roared and without thinking, Sirius whipped his wand furiously. Snape was swept of his feet and he landed on his front, hard; a harsh cry escaped his lips. Sirius façade darkened. He had not forgotten also that this man was a Death Eater. Not for a single moment had he believed Snape's claim that his allegiance was with the Order. Turned over a new leaf, Dumbledore said. Well Sirius thought that leopards just don't change their spots ever. Sirius took a step closer, thinking of all possible ways of how he could lay waste on this being he was certain to be rotten, evil.

"Trying to kill me now, is it, _Snivellus_?" Sirius whispered dangerously. He whipped his wand upwards and Snape followed suit, his slight body now magically pinned against the wall. Sirius' face was just inches away from Snape's and he took in the agonized crevices curtained between greasy, black hair. "Well I thank you for giving me a reason to do you in," he snarled. "Send my hello to Voldemort when he joins you there!"

"_Please…_"

A gurgle accompanied Snape's weak pleading. He coughed and crimson droplets splattered onto Sirius. Between them a hand shifted and Sirius jammed his wand into Snape's chest, warning him who was in charge here but all it did was to press shakily against the ugly, bleeding gash in his side.

"Please… kill _me _instead…"

Sirius' mouth hung open. He blinked, making sure he was not caught in another reality. The stench of copper stung his nostrils and he glanced down, taking note of blood cascading between Snape's fingers that were clasping over the wound. He immediately relieved the spell and Snape dropped onto the ground, boneless like a rag doll. Sirius slid down with him in turn.

"Spare her… take me…."

Sirius' wand clattered on the wooden board. He grabbed Snape on both shoulders, giving the man a sturdy jostle. Snape's head lolled with the motion but never once did he rest his vision on Sirius. His irises seemed gray and listless, unfocused. Delirium was clouding his senses and as a new wave of pain coasted over him, Snape gritted his teeth, barely subduing a strangled groan of anguish. He fell forward as he clutched tighter to his side, his entire form shaking visibly. Sirius was in the middle of considering whether to Stun the man unconscious or leave him until he wears out when Snape sagged against him and moved no more.

Levitating Snape to the battle-worn bed, Sirius considered his third option; finish this so-called reformed Death Eater off. He absent-mindedly rubbed the cuff that was burnt off slightly at the edge and watched Snape's empty façade. Who knew what was going on in that mind, fortified against Voldemort? Sirius conjured a wooden stool beside the bed and pulled off a portion of the robes that was obstructing the bleeding injury. He recalled the singsong chanting Snape performed to seal back this cut. It was a terribly long one with some unheard of words but Sirius could remember well enough the pronunciations for possibly half of the entire charm. He watched the flesh welded somewhat, leaving behind a trail of angry red and pink welts and thought despondently, why on earth would Snape come to his doorstep in the first place?


	7. Into the Night

Sirius looked out the windows forlornly into the murky evening. In his hands there was a slightly crumpled piece of parchment bearing the neat handwritings of Remus Lupin. The message was just a sentence long but informative enough; it held magical coordinates for one to Apparate to red temples based in Kent. Sirius ruffled his hair. He had written to Lupin first, asking about red temples in his first paragraph and anticipating a "why?" he added, "Snape is supposed to track an ally down in Kent but he's too much of a git to ask for help from the Order in locating him, so I'm doing him a favour right here." It was not the best lie he had ever come up with, but surprise, surprise! somehow even the ever-guarded Lupin bought it. Sirius shifted in his armchair and tore his eyes from the outside. He watched Snape; currently lying on his mangled bed, dead to the world. Sirius smoothened the parchment again and re-read the coordinates. Lupin had given him quite a number of them and like hell Sirius would visit each and every of them. But his old friend had also arranged them according to their distance from a known wizarding community.

So yes, they were all set to go. Sirius let his attention swim to the other man again. He had not the slightest clue what Snape had been mumbling about – no idea who and why he was pleading – and who on earth was _she? _All those aside, Snape was clearly out of it, and if he was not sane enough to tell reality from hallucination (or a distant past, Sirius thought uneasily), then Sirius would have no choice but to leave Snape behind. Sirius was just about to up and head for the kitchen when Snape suddenly coughed and inhaled raspingly.

"Well," Sirius started, treading his way to the bed cautiously – he had placed Snape's wand on the nightstand so if the man decided to hex him anyway… "Welcome back to the living."

Snape took in another difficult breath and fixed his black eyes on Sirius. He blinked once, but did not say anything. Sirius waved a hand in a general motion around the bandages and said, "I just remembered half the incantation you used on that bloody cut, so if it starts bleeding again," and just when the words slipped out of his mouth, the bandages began to stain red. "Help yourself."

"It matters not," Snape seemed to sink deeper into his pillow. "The spell I used isn't meant for proper healing. At least, not for this cut." He shifted a little, grimacing as pain bite into him. "Surely you haven't forgotten that little song… what it was meant to heal?"

Sirius merely stared at him blankly. Snape pressed on, "_Sectumsempra_. Happy days, were they not, Black?"

Sectumsempra – indeed, the Marauders were familiar with that home-made curse, but Sirius never knew of an existing healing counterpart. There was definitely much more to Snape that meets the eye back then – and now still – but Sirius had never intended to get to know this slimy oddball of a wizard. Snape coughed some more.

"Sectumsempra cuts shallow. It's meant to excite as many pain nerves as possible, not so much to do grievous damage. A… _special_, yet quite elementary healing incantation is enough to undo it."

Sirius snorted, "Aren't you a sick puppy?"

"What the Dark Lord did," Snape continued, "was beyond flesh wound. Not even elf magic can help." He propped himself up on one elbow and turned to Sirius, raking his features carefully. "But it can close the skin temporarily. Good enough for traveling. I trust you have some information about red temples in Kent?"

Right, straight to the point – Sirius liked that. His soul was craving for some sort of adventure. No prisons can make an energetic young man like him sit tight, not especially when Harry's protection is at stake. Sirius took the now rumpled parchment from his pocket and gave it to Snape.

"Lupin compiled a list of coordinates. We ought to start from the top. Those temples are supposed to be closer to wizarding villages or sorts."

Snape gave the list a once over and nodded, "Good enough." He then peeled his robes back and reached for his wand shakily. Sirius watched as Snape performed the healing charm again, memorising the parts where he had previously forgotten. Just in case. Snape had paled significantly when he was done and he fell back to his pillow before he could even replace his wand on the bedside table. Sirius had already made a mental list of all the potions and supplements he should get and pack for the journey. But as he regarded Snape's weakened form, he supposed there really was an urgent need to feed Snape some blood replenishing concoctions. Probably something to manage pain and hallucinations as well.

"Maybe we should get the Hogwarts owl to bring some potions from your office?"

Snape shut his eyes wearily, "Maybe."

But that would take days, wouldn't it, Sirius thought to himself again. That body was practically a punctured tire; how much blood could it afford to lose at this rate? And if say Sirius were to think selfishly, he would definitely not want Dumbledore to drop by for dinner only to discover a dying Potions Master in his bedroom. So Sirius did what he think was right; he wrote a list of potions ingredients on the back of Lupin's parchment, put a pouch of Galleons on the table – and transformed into a great black dog.

Sirius gave a loud bark.

Snape had fallen unconscious again, his chest rising ever so slightly with each inhale. Sirius' excitement was at its peak again; no Snape to talk reasons to, a good purpose to leave this slum he called home, what more could ol' Snuffles ask for? Sirius snatched the pouch of gold and parchment with his sharp, long teeth and walked doggedly to the front door. A moment later, he was gone from 12 Grimmauld Place.


	8. Of Potions and Death Eaters

Wouldn't it be strange to see a great big dog buying potion ingredients in the late evening, Sirius wondered as he trotted down the streets. He slowed down at the junction, waiting for cars to swerve left as he stood waiting for his turn to cross. A little girl no older than eight who was also standing beside him smiled and gave a little wave. Sirius barked, acknowledging. Then the traffic lights changed colour. Sirius walked on, making a quick dash for a back alley when he thought no Muggle eyes were on him anymore. He could sniff the thickening waft of magic in the air. This was the magical corner of the neighbourhood; secluded from the bustling Muggle city where Grimmauld Place was located smack in its middle. He remembered the apothecary to be somewhere up ahead. He quickened his pace.

As he passed by rows of shops, he started to realise how late it was getting. Some had already dimmed their lights with signboards "CLOSED" hanging by the entrances. Sirius hoped the apothecary would still be operating. What would he do if it was not? Remembering a half-dead Severus Snape in his bed, he entertained half-heartedly the idea of breaking into a house for some potions instead. Then he jogged past a lamp post bearing a "WANTED: SIRIUS BLACK DEAD OR ALIVE" poster. Now he thought: screw Snape then, the git was definitely not worth his head.

The apothecary was fortunately still open. The door was partially closed though; the bars were already half-way down. Sirius had no trouble walking in given his current height and went straight up to the counter. An elderly man whose hair was white as snow sat manning it.

"Hello… you," he greeted just as Sirius heaved his front paws to lean against the polished counter. He dropped the small pouch of Galleons and his shopping list on the top and barked twice. "All right, what've you got there?" The old man scanned the parchment, his eyebrows knitted closer with each item read. When he was done, he spared Sirius a sympathetic look. "Your master's ill isn't he? That's why you're helping him to buy stuff to brew healing potions?"

_Master?_

Sirius growled and bared his fangs. By the time he started on a ferocious bark, the old man had stepped inside his storeroom but not before patting Sirius' muzzles kindly. Sirius dropped on four feet again, somehow feeling much less dignified. It did not take the old man long to bag everything and pocket the pouch of gold. Sirius was soon on his way to the exit when a walking stick suddenly struck the very ground before him. Sirius yelped in surprise, and looked up.

Lucius Malfoy was looking down at him. There was no mistake in the waxy blonde hair and widened eyes brimming with triumph. Sirius' heart skipped a beat. Does Malfoy recognise his Animagus form? But this could not be his end. The bag of potion ingredients felt weightless upon his back under those piercing glares. This could not be his end! So Sirius started whining, cowering visibly. He noted Malfoy's eyes glinted suspiciously. He backed off a little from the walking cane. Lucius did not move. Sirius turned his tail and ran towards the old man behind the counter again. He barked.

"Ah, Master Malfoy! Welcome! Don't think I'll ever see you in an apothecary at night!"

Lucius' attention shot to the old man. He nodded and slid to the counter. He could not see the dog anymore but could still hear its petty whimpering. "As it is, I'm on my way to an old friend's. Since I'm in your neighbourhood, I thought I'd chance a quick visit down here," he finished with a cursory smile.

"Oh course, of course! Always fancy seeing you around, Master Malfoy. So, how's your estate coping in these terrible times? I suppose even with all the magic, we play economy pretty hard like the Muggles!"

Sirius sneaked past the wizards and pushed the door open. He could feel Lucius' eyes on the back of his hide but did not turn back to make sure. After a couple of slow steps, he decided Lucius was content enough to engage in a conversation with the apothecary owner (or helper, whichever). Sirius could not be certain though, that Lucius Malfoy was out in this particular neighbourhood _alone. _Just as he considered this possibility, a nasty pang of dread coursed him. He ran into the night, not daring to stop for even a glance at the full moon. He was pretty close to the border of the Fidelius Charm and heard it, for the first time, the quick steps of many feet. They – whoever they were – were closing in on him.

And he leaped.

Sirius did not care if he had hit the door muzzle-first and stars were shooting up his vision. He did not care if the potions ingredients lay scattered around him.

"_Damn_," he breathed.

"Snape, get up!" Sirius shouted from the hallway as he stowed his hastily collected potion ingredients into a duffel bag he had previously charmed to carry way more things than it would seem from outside. He emerged inside Snape's bedroom, searching for the other man. The bed was unoccupied and there was another luggage by its side. Sirius shrank it quickly and chucked it inside his bag.

"We got to go!"

Sirius lunged for a basket of fruits Kreacher had placed by the fireside. They too disappeared into his magically altered duffel bag.

"Where to?"

Sirius spun around so quickly the carpet beneath him crumpled. Snape was in an armchair (conjured – seeing as no armchairs had escaped their hex-and-curse-swapping tirade unscathed). He studied the features of a rather irritated Sirius evenly, and spoke questioningly, "What happened?"

For some reasons, the calmness Snape exude was perceived as blatant ignorance on Sirius' part, so as he strode over to the wardrobe (also almost reduced to cinders) to collect spare clothes, he replied harshly, "So the sleeping beauty has just woken up, eh? Not entirely up to date with today's current affairs?"

Snape's lips curled. As a matter of fact, yes, he had just come to. He did not sense Sirius' presence in his room when he woke up and had assumed that his host was in the kitchen or so. Then he dragged himself to a corner and whipped himself a chair seeing as how tired he was of being horizontal all the time. Apparently, he made a silent comment in his head, Sirius was not at all in the kitchen. His dark eyes narrowed as comprehension and anger surged, "You mean to tell me – you went _out?_"

Sirius threw the last of a fresh pair of underwear into his bag. He turned to face Snape fully. "Yes, I did. I went to the apothecary to get some potion ingredients, all right?"

"You idiot!"

Snape stood up forcefully that he upset the armchair. The next thing Sirius knew, Snape was grabbing the front of his robes, seething.

"You _fool!_"

"Be angry all you want. They can't come into this place until Dumbledore spill the beans, can they? Besides, we've been meaning to leave this place for a bit."

"Black, I _told _you –"

"Don't lose your grip, Snivellus."

There was a _crack! _and Sirius and Snape were gone from the room.


	9. Truths and Half-truths

Sirius was aware it was already midnight. Not the best time for traveling he would admit, but anytime was _good _if there were a bunch of Death Eaters hot on their trail. Well he was not so sure about the Death Eaters too since he _had not _actually seen one with his own eyes, but better safe than sorry he reckoned. Then again, Sirius had neglected the state of his companion (he snorted inwardly at this) before he Apparated; he could feel Snape's grip on his robes becoming laxer as they travelled the distance. They hit solid ground hard and Snape relinquished his hold, gasping desperately for breath.

"Get up!" Sirius barked and hauled the other man by his biceps.

The two dark figures zipped past bushes and trees and it was then Sirius realised they were not exactly in modern civilisation anymore. The horizon bore no signs of buildings, only greeneries and a faint veil of mist. The night was getting colder. It had come to a point where Snape could no longer keep up with their speed; Sirius seemed to be half-supporting his weight and dragging him as they went along. And just by chance, seeing as Sirius had no clear idea where they were supposed to be heading, a wooden shack bloomed into view.

"Looks abandoned to me. Come on," Sirius said urgently as he tugged at Snape's arm that was now around his neck, "just a bit more to go."

Sirius made easy work of the lock and they entered with no hassle. A simple conjured flame illuminated the space and they realised they were in some sort of store room. There was only a sparse layer of dust at places where contact was not frequent, like the top most shelves or the corner of the floor. It was not as abandoned as they first thought it to be. But no matter, it was good enough for a pit stop and Snape must have thought likewise – that, or he was too far gone to even bother. He crashed into a nearby table and gripped the edge with white-knuckled fists, his jaws set with anguish. Sirius tore his bag open and pulled out two phials of reddish liquid. Snape took them with hands so unsteady Sirius worried they would slip, and with much difficulty Snape managed to down them all. He seemed to be able to stand straighter after a couple of minutes though colour did not return to his visage. He then dropped unceremoniously onto a dusty rocking chair and leaned back with contentment.

But Sirius had his wand out and pointed in between Snape's brows.

"What is Lucius Malfoy doing near the Headquarters?"

There was a look in the depths of Snape's black eyes that betrayed a hint of surprise, but perhaps it was the fatigue and hurt that he remained rather impassive all the same.

"I don't know."

"You were _followed_," Sirius hissed as he braced both armrests and lowered himself to the other man's eye level. "You pissed off a bunch of Death Eaters and led them right to Headquarters. I think the Order has the right to know the _details._"

Snape stared back at Sirius. "That is of no real import, and is no concern of yours." He pushed Sirius away with a force he did not possess just moments ago and rose to his feet. He picked up the duffel bag that was lying on the floor.

"Where did you Apparate us to?" Snape had his arm deep into the duffel bag up to his elbow and pulled out a small silver cauldron and some jars of blue coloured weed.

"I don't know," Sirius answered; his voice a tinge of childish mimicry. When Snape threw him a filthy glare, Sirius crossed his arms and repeated, "I don't know. I intended to follow the first set of coordinates but halfway through, _you_," Sirius looked purposely at Snape again, "almost let go." Snape suddenly coughed violently, his upper body quaking with each forceful hack. He closed his palm over his mouth and shuddered when he saw what he caught.

"We're somewhere in between Headquarters and the temple," Sirius finished slowly as he saw the bright red muck Snape had coughed into his hand.

They spoke no more after that. Snape had started brewing potions; wisps of green and yellow emanated from the top of his cauldron. Sirius meanwhile stood guard by the door. He watched the night unfold in the form of utter silence, blackness with the occasional hoots of the owls. Occasionally he looked back in, watching Snape ignoring his injuries as he attended to his potions with mastery. Sirius himself was pretty good in Potions but such adeptness was beyond him, he considered grudgingly, so perhaps it was best that Snape take charge of replenishing their potions stock. It was only when Snape's breathing began to labour and beads of cold sweat formed on his brows that Sirius pointed his wand at the cauldron. Snape let go of the ladle immediately – somehow knowing that Sirius had taken control.

"Get some sleep," Sirius said gruffly.

Snape left the cauldron side with a slight limp and Sirius took the vacated spot. The potion was only quarter done; by morning only would it be ready. Snape spread open a sleeping back with a swish of his wand and sat on it gingerly.

"So," Sirius started, not really looking at the other wizard. But Snape had pulled his robes open again and Sirius held his tongue, waiting for Snape to finish the singsong incantation.

"So," he tried again, to which Snape this time blatantly ignored, opting to lie on his back with his eyes closed. It did not help to ease Sirius' irritation and the ladle that was stirring the potion accidently clanked noisily with the cauldron. Snape's eyelids flew open in alarm.

"Watch it, Black!"

"It's been half a week and I still don't know head or tail of this whole fiasco! I get what we're trying to do but what I _don't_," and he waved a frantic hand over Snape's flat form, "is… _hell_, everything else!" When Snape kept mum, Sirius hissed angrily, "Has it not occurred to you that _some _people think you're still Voldemort's most loyal servant?"

"Some people… like you?"

Sirius stood up. "Yeah, like me. I think it's a tad suspicious that there are Death Eaters running freely around the Headquarters like never before, and it's all thanks to you. You have no reason to appear at my doorstep that night, so if it's not to lead your lovely mates there, then what gives?"

Snape gave out a short, mirthless chuckle. "Am I hearing this right, Black? You seem to imply that I faked this injury and crawled to you so I can show the Death Eaters the way, in a rather inconspicuous manner so I can keep safe my identity as the Dark Lord's servant?" He sneered, "What did you say to me last time, 'you put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and as usual," Snape's voice deepened with dripping sarcasm, "come to the wrong conclusion.'"

The ladle hit the cauldron again but this time, so much harder that some of the potion actually spilt out. Sirius cursed as the liquid's hue changed from colourless to a slight pink, and he sat down to try to reverse this slight mistake. His movements were somewhat erratic, driven by sheer agitation that the pinkish shade turned darker.

"Stir the opposite direction, _gentler_," Snape instructed coolly from his bed.

Sirius obliged and was just about to let out a stream of choice swear words aimed at the Potion Master when the Master in mind started choking again. Snape quickly hid his face in his long sleeves, hoping that the blackness of the cloth would conceal his bloodstains. After a stretched minute of silence, Sirius thought Snape had already fallen asleep when he said hoarsely, "My control over Occlumency weakened that day. It was not… my intention for that to happen but it did, and the Dark Lord saw bits and pieces of… _facts _that enrage him."

Sirius considered this for a while. "Order related?"

"No, that you don't have to worry." Sirius' eyes narrowed in disbelief. "It was personal. So if you don't mind."

Sirius stirred the potion slowly, watching the pinkish hue fade into colourless. Snape's breathing evened out – a sign that he had finally drifted into blissful sleep. Snape's words though stayed with him. Sirius found it a bit difficult to believe that Snape whose skill in Occlumency was so consummate that for 14 years, he could spew lies in Voldemort's face and still walk away alive, could possibly have a glitch. That someone as vigilant as Snape could _slip _in the most trivial way. No, Sirius thought grimly, there was more to that answer. He noticed some specks of blood by the side of Snape's pale lips. These marks of such severe suffering did not erase Sirius' doubts entirely but they did tug at his bottommost conscious that Snape was really telling the truth, though not the entire truth regrettably.

And Sirius' fingers curled around his wand tighter.


	10. The Monk of the Red Temple

Snape woke up with a start. Sunlight streamed into his eyes and he squinted; it had been days since he last saw a bright sky. He sat up and looked around the storeroom. The morning somehow changed the way things looked. It was not as desolate as he remembered it to be – and his roaming eyes finally found Sirius'. There were no good mornings or breakfast-is-ready's, but the lack of loathe in the atmosphere was already more than pleasant. Sirius got to his feet and stretched while Snape pulled his robes closer to himself.

Sirius spoke first, coarsely as he had not been using his throat for close to six hours, "I got everything stoppered, labelled and bagged. That good enough for Professor Snape?"

Snape said nothing, preferring instead to pull at the duffel bag that was by his feet. Reaching into it he fumbled a bit for an apple – which he tossed to Sirius – and a phial of colourless liquid that they had collaboratively brewed yesterday night. He downed that quickly. Sirius took no notice of Snape's activities; he was currently perusing Lupin's parchment, memorising the next few coordinates by heart.

"We pack and leave in fifteen minutes."

Snape was already moving around the room, picking up belongings and throwing them into the duffel bag in a way that seemed too cautious to Sirius. He was slow to bend down when he tried to reach an unused glass tube on the floor. After that one uncomfortable attempt of packing, Snape took out his wand and magically cleared everything. Sirius saw the subtle worry and disappointment in the wizard's eyes but when Snape shot him a lethal glare and asked, "What?" Sirius merely shrugged and resumed cleaning up his side of the room. When the storeroom looked spick and span like it had never seen the backs of two runaway men, they both exited and replaced the padlock.

Sirius heaved his bag on his shoulder, secured it and turned to Snape. "Ready?"

Snape extended his right arm; Sirius took it and they clasped at each other's forearm. In the next second, their world spun out of focus and back in almost as soon as it started. A red temple now stood some hundred meters away.

"OK," Sirius said grimly, "let's hope we hit the right one."

The road leading to the temple was narrow and somewhat crowded with worshippers. The air itself was dense with the scent of lighted joss sticks and incense. Snape's throat itched and he coughed. As they approached the temple, they realised it was not so easy after all to mark a wizard in this mass. Having no idea of what he looked or sounded, their best chance of finding him was to somehow bump into him by accident.

"This is ridiculous," Sirius muttered under his breath as he looked around the courtyard.

"We're looking for a monk," Snape snapped. "Narrow your search."

They walked around easily, standing out in the crowd as one find it impossible to overlook their roughened exteriors amidst a crowd which was at their cleanest, ready to present themselves to their venerable holies. They had spotted a total of four monks; all donning baggy, grey shirts that reach their knees and pants of the same colour. Some were seen sweeping granite steps; others were attending to the parishioners.

Sirius ran a hand through his dark hair. "We can't search one by one. We have to lure him out."

"That may not be necessary," and Snape cocked his head towards his right. Sirius turned to see a wizened monk whose beard could rival Dumbledore's sitting under a tree sipping tea from a clay gourd.

"That one?"

Snape nodded once, never letting the man out of his sight.

"How can you be so sure?"

The old man then folded the newspaper he was reading and slipped it under his armpit. He quaffed more tea, completely oblivious to the wizards' stares. That was when Sirius saw it; the picture on the front page of the newspaper _moved. _

"That's definitely not Muggle newspapers," Sirius agreed, and started towards the monk. He broke through the crowd as Snape followed him. They both had their wands in hand, concealed in their sleeves. The throng of worshippers thinned as they reached the side of the road where the old monk was and before he could take another step towards the temple, Sirius called out, "Sir!"

The monk stopped in his tracks.

"Sir," Sirius addressed him again, this time in which the monk reciprocated with a genial smile. "We have to talk, it's very important."

He looked puzzled but did not press further. He merely shook his head and said, his voice airy, "Come, let's go somewhere more private."

The queasiness in Snape's stomach rippled stronger. He could not help feeling so many pairs of unfriendly eyes upon them. Foes were close by. For a split second, Sirius had turned back to catch his eyes. It was brief, before he turned to follow the monk again, but he too had that gleam of uneasiness in his irises. Snape pushed himself past many more strangers to keep up with the other two, at the same time anticipating sudden blasts of offensive magic from everywhere. His heart thumped madly in his chest.

The monk had led them to a small clearing not far from the temple. The din of the crowd had pretty much diminished and the leaves of the trees were thicker, so that only specks of sunlight fall onto their features. Sirius wasted no time and spun to the monk. "Sir, we don't have much time and I'll be frank – you're in great danger. We can explain when we get to somewhere safe so if you can just take my arm, we'll Apparate –"

The monk held a long finger up. "Boy," he said, "what are you talking about?"

"Sir, the explaining will have to wait," Sirius spoke anxiously. "Please just take my arm –"

A blast of red whizzed past his face and Snape was thrown against a nearby tree trunk. The sickening crunch of his broken body slamming into wood shook the forest and Sirius turned furiously, putting himself in front of the monk and their attackers. From the tail of his eyes he saw Snape was down, breathing hard and the next moment he knew, a sharp pain erupted in his spine as he himself shot forward into a shrub.

"Boy," the monk called out. Sirius spat saliva and with much difficulty, rolled over to his side. Has the monk been captured by no doubt, the Death Eaters?

"No…"

The monk was smiling – no more lingering warmth in the lips, only a curve of malice. He had a foot shoved into Snape's chest and his wand was still smoking at the tip after he blasted Sirius away.

"Targets…." The monk said with glee, "secured."


	11. Narrow Escape

"Well done."

The bushes ahead of Sirius rustled as several figures emerged. A tall man with flowing blond mane – the unmistakable stature of Lucius Malfoy – lead the pack. He growled inwardly when Lucius smiled coldly, his walking cane tapping onto the slightly moist forest floor. The other Death Eaters dispersed into a loose circle around them. The atmosphere went ominously silent until the monk dug his heel deeper into Snape, provoking a growl.

"Let him up," Lucius drawled, pointing the tip of his cane to Snape.

The monk grabbed his captive by the front of his robes and shoved him up against the nearest tree. Snape's eyes peeled open, assessing the situation he was in. As Lucius approached him, he stilled. He was tired, _very _tired, and he could feel his consciousness slipping like water between smooth river pebbles. Yet he steadied himself against the Death Eater's stare, even when his legs had threatened to give way. A sense of alertness burst into him when the monk hooked his arms under both his armpits, locking his movements and Lucius' sneering visage occupied the whole of his vision.

"The Dark Lord was most disappointed."

Then haze seemed to sink in again and Snape's attention plunged. His eyelids slid shut for a split second and Lucius immediately caught him painfully by the back of his hair, yanking his head back.

"_I _am disappointed in you, Severus," Lucius spat out vehemently. "_I _sided with you when the Dark Lord mocked your loyalty and love for that woman. I defended you, said that even men like us needed a family. Like how I have Cissy and Draco. The Dark Lord hoped that after her death, you would move on and continue to serve him with utmost faithfulness."

Snape looked Lucius squarely in the eyes. He challenged, "What did you say to the Dark Lord, Lucius? That lesser wizards need support and companions, so unlike him who stands alone, strong though friendless?"

Sirius could not hear Snape's words for they were uttered so quietly, but he did catch the sickening dull thud of callous fist colliding painfully with ribs. He heard Snape retch.

"He does not trust you yet, Severus. Not completely. The Dark Lord is under the impression that your love for her may unhinge your loyalty to him."

Snape took a shaky inhale, "He tells you all these?"

"Yes," Lucius deliberated, "but not who this woman is, regrettably. I remember all the things you've done for the clan, Severus," said Lucius, one hand pulling back at Snape's black hair again, "but what you're attempting now," and he suddenly took hold of Snape's left forearm and rolled the sleeves up, "is making me _very _angry."

Sirius had no idea what a little bit of hand-holding between Death Eaters would do and was just as perplexed as he was disturbed when Snape let out a sudden, guttural scream. All the Death Eaters seemed to be engrossed in the scene unfolding before them that none even seemed to notice as Sirius started inching for his wand that had fallen just a short distance away. Lucius was still clasping Snape's forearm.

"You think stealing my glory will restore the Dark Lord's favour in you?"

Snape gave a weak chuckle, "Is that what you're getting at?"

"Don't take me for a fool!"

Snape was thrown onto the ground again. He landed messily beside Sirius.

"Nothing matters anymore Severus, because I think Sirius Black in flesh is good enough an atonement for your foolishness!"

That, Sirius had expected. Before the pack of Death Eaters could turn their wands onto him, he whipped his own in a perfect circle and up, dust and dry leaves swirl in a whirl of wind. Visions now obstructed, Sirius summoned Snape's wand that had landed somewhere near the tree where he was held up against just minutes ago and reached blindly for Snape. A Stunning spell just missed his foot by inches and Sirius swore in the din. One would have hit him in his face if someone had not just lunged for him and tackled him to the ground.

"Now!" Snape, now lying on top of a befuddled Sirius, shouted.

Lucius waved his wand in one violent sweep and the wall of debris parted, leaving the air around them pristine again. Too pristine indeed; there were no more signs of the two wizards anywhere.

* * *

The two wizards slammed into jagged stone floors and groaned at the impact. Sirius quickly clambered to his feet, wild and mildly disoriented. He had instinctively thought of the next coordinates in Lupin's list and he supposed this was where they were now. He strained his ears for any unwelcomed presences and upon finding none, his shoulders slacked easily. The sneak attack the Death Eaters had arranged for them had shamefully derailed him somewhat. He bit his lower lips in frustration. He had not been in any serious wizard battles in ages and just when it mattered… how he dearly wished he could have done some serious damage to Lucius Malfoy.

Then he thought of Snape. He whisked around, finding Snape crouching with one hand resting against the wall. He spat bloody phlegm and wiped the edge of his mouth with his black sleeves. He neither moved nor made any effort to talk, only kept eerily still and his forehead onto the cool wall. Sirius left him be. He walked the perimeter of the construction they were in, noticing the roof that was falling apart and some parts of the walls that seemed to have been blasted away. There were however, four sturdy pillars that were probably the only things that were keeping this shack upright; them painted red hinted to Sirius that _this _used to be a red temple. A rack of dusty idols hidden beneath a pile of rubble confirmed his suspicions.

By nightfall, Sirius had gotten a small smoke-free campfire up. He had also cast every single protective charm he knew over the four walls around them, hoping no nosy folks, Muggle or magical, would stumble upon their hiding place. He glanced at Snape once in a while, slightly disconcerted at the idea of someone hiding in the shadows making no moves or sounds. It almost seemed like Azkaban where he knew but could not see someone lurking there, watching him.

And indeed Snape was watching Sirius. He had no more strength left in him to fight off anyone and from this angle, should Sirius even so much as pick his wand and point it at his direction... He had no doubt that after all Sirius had heard from Lucius, there was going to be more uncertainties about his true allegiance. He would not be surprised if Sirius concluded that he showed up at Grimmauld Place with this elaborate plan to lure Sirius out to the Dark Lord. Sirius after all, was a member of the Order; a rich source for information since his mind was locked to all others. Inaccessible to even the Dark Lord; Snape felt a sick pride welled inside him.

And then, sleep welcomed him with open embrace.


	12. Scourgify!

"Snape."

"_You're not supposed to let it boil this long, Lily."_

"_Only for five more seconds! Trust me, it'll work better this way. All right, this should do it. Try it."_

"_Heck no!"_

"_Come on, Sev. It's only a Cheering Potion. How bad can it be?"_

"_Urgh… here goes…"_

"_Awesome. Well?"_

"_Hmm… probably a tad too effective? Oh no, look at my face!"_

"_Uh, too potent indeed…"_

"_It'll be good if there's something to cut down on the potency a bit…"_

"_Basil leaves! How about basil leaves? Like what we tried on the Unblinking Potion!"_

"_I was thinking of that too! You got any basil leaves left to spare?"_

"Damn it – Snape! Wake up!"

He started, arousing from his deep slumber. The last echoes of Lily's laughter dissipated and Snape winced at the vice grip on his shoulders. His eyes slowly rolled into focus and as he recognised Sirius' haggard form looming before him, he tensed, of which Sirius detected and he backed off towards the campfire in the middle of the half-torn-down structure. The silver cauldron that they used just a couple of days ago to brew potions was sat on top of the dying flames; this time, it held only plain water. Sirius looked at Snape a second longer, catching those dim black eyes and returned to ladling hot water into a couple of vacuum flasks. "Still hanging on?"

Silence answered him. Sirius nonchalantly returned the flasks into his duffel bag and poured the leftover water onto the embers.

"What time is it?" Snape asked finally, watching Sirius packing as he realised his limbs were not cooperating. He urged them to move so he could stand or at least wiggle a toe but there he was sitting resolutely unmoving, leaning against the wall at the exact same spot where he landed after Sirius Disapparated them from the swarm of Death Eaters the day before. Sirius heaved the duffel bag onto his shoulder.

"Late evening."

Then he extended his arm to Snape. Much good it would do, Snape thought nastily, be it to haul him off the grimy floor or merely establish physical connection for Side-Along-Apparition, and he tried futilely again to just move a bloody finger.

"Waiting for your red carpet, Snape? Come on, we don't have all day."

Snape strained his muscles again. He thought his right hand had almost twitched and that was when Sirius' patience ran thin. He grabbed Snape brusquely around the arm and pulled him up, only to feel Snape's deadweight leaning into him without so much as the flimsiest resistance he had so often encountered whenever Snape came into contact with him. He eased his hold on the other wizard, letting him lean against the wall again. He frowned and looked down at matted black hair. Snape did not even bother trying to look up at Sirius. "I can't move," he said almost inaudibly.

Sirius squatted before Snape, scrutinising him. Beneath the torn black robes that clung firmly to his body, Sirius discerned dried blood caking heavily on bruised skin. A proper bath seemed an unlikely privilege now and the last one they had was days ago at Grimmauld Place. Snape could obviously use one but perhaps more urgently was the ugly wound that looked worse with each passing day.

"Could be infections," Sirius remarked, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor again. He searched for his phials of colourless potions – a look of apprehension crossed his visage when the tips of fingers brushed against only two more unopened vials – and helped tipped the content of one into Snape's parched mouth. He should make more of these though they looked pretty useless; Snape's condition seemed to worsen with time, hell Snape himself did not seem to bother if he remembered to take the concoctions on time or not.

"Did Malfoy do something?"

Snape's brow creased in confusion. As if to make his point, Sirius took Snape's left arm and pushed the sleeves back. Comprehension dawned and Sirius looked questioningly at him, the Dark Mark black and persistent between them. Snape remembered Lucius taking hold of his forearm and burnt this… _blemish _with authority only Death Eaters possess. The hot pain drilled into his very marrow and his body had, for a split second, felt like it were not his own. But that was all there was to it.

"Yes," Snape replied dryly. "But nothing lasting."

Sirius released his arm. It flopped back uselessly to his side.

"Where's my wand?" asked Snape.

Sirius dropped into a sit before Snape and pulled the duffel bag closer. "Why?"

A wry smile formed on his pale lips. "Just in case." He went on darkly, "Of course, why would you? You must be under the impression that it was I who fled the Dark Lord's side to the Headquarters to show the Death Eaters its general location, then convince you to come out of hiding and go on a wild goose chase for this monk we don't know exist, and then have them corner us so as to take you by force. Does this humour your Severus –Snape-is-a-Death-Eater-still theory, Black?"

Sirius was quicker with his wand. With a pointed flick, the buttons on the front of Snape's robes came undone to reveal a pale, lean torso decked with patches of greens and blues.

"Well, back to cheap tortures again, are we, Black?"

Sirius flashed an angry stare. He could almost hear Snape's snigger, egging him to go on with it. But as his wand shifted slightly, Sirius could sense the tension in Snape's taut muscle, those constrict irises, the hollow smirk. Azkaban had taught Sirius to recognise those familiar with bodily torments – twitches and shudders no matter how subtle that screamed of fear and submission. Snape had none of those, but Sirius did not overlook the sudden stop of breathing – sick anticipation for pain that was to come.

"Shut up," Sirius muttered.

Without another word exchanged, Snape let him wash his wounds with a neat _Scourgify! _and replace the day old bandage. After that was done, Sirius returned to his corner and chanted those protective charms over the perimeter of the space again. He did not come close to Snape anymore for the rest of the day, not even to pass him meals, choosing to levitate them magically from his nook instead. Snape wondered how long more they had to endure each other's company before they tried to do each other in first before the Death Eaters do.

* * *

Author's note: Hi! If you're reading this, thank you very much for staying with me up to here. I don't normally leave notes in my writings since I want my word count to reflect solely the length of my stories (I'm weird like that). But why I can squeeze one in here is because I'm pretty certain I'll be revising this (once this is over) - adding details, dialogues, fluffs to maybe push for 4k per chapter (this is my personal target for fanfics that really matter to me). That means I'll be doing a major overhaul (i.e. consolidating all chapters) in the very near future. See, I started writing this because I caught the Rickman-bug. Yeah, beats me why but I did and it had somehow run out, but just hours ago at work I suddenly thought of how I wanted this piece to end. And I thought, this deserves to be much more than a sick attempt to get Rickman out of my system (haha!). I hardly beta the chapters, so I'm really sorry for those silly mistakes you encounter in previous chapters. I hope you'll stick around a bit longer till the end - we're not that far off. Thank you once again!


	13. Snape's Story

They had spent close to a day in this run down temple. Sirius looked up to the sky through the hole in the roof. It was bright blue with sparse puffy clouds, in short, a really good day for traveling and not idling, exactly what they were currently doing. Snape had for probably the umpteenth time in two hours, dozed off. The first two times he did that, he suddenly jerked awake and started looking all over the place as if there were nasty people lurking in the shadows. Finding no threats, he relaxed only to fall back into what seemed to Sirius, like dreamless sleep. Then a couple of minutes later, his eyes snapped open again. Half an hour later of this cycle of falling asleep and lurching awake, Snape gradually grew less and less responsive to his surroundings. Sirius had at one point called his name, even lightly tossed a stray rock to the other corner to catch his attention but when Snape no longer moved, Sirius got to his heels.

"Hey?"

His boots crunched on the dusty ground as he knelt beside Snape. Taking hold of his shoulders, he gave Snape a firm shake.

"Snape, wake up."

Annoyed at being ignored, he pulled the unaware wizard up, only to have Snape sag lifelessly into his chest. Sirius' heart skipped a beat, "Oh hell no – oi – get up!" Cradling Snape in his arms, he swatted a mass of black hair that was in the way and checked for a pulse. Sirius watched the blank visage and waited; Snape could drop dead anytime he wanted for all he cared, like this he could stop all those dark nonsense he must have been preaching since day one as a teacher at Hogwarts, good riddance Sirius thought, yet he found himself slightly relieved at the faintest pulse from Snape's jugular. He tapped on Snape's cheeks. "You slimy git, get _up!" _ He pressed his thumb into Snape's philtrum. "Snape!"

And he responded to his name. He gasped, choking as though for a moment all air had vanished around him. The next thing he noticed was Sirius hogging his personal space. He pulled away abruptly, inching as quickly as he could to the wall he had previously found solace with. He eyed the other wizard, wary and alert. It took Sirius all he got to not roll his eyes, so slowly, he got up and backed away.

Finally convinced that Sirius was not going to do anything dodgy, Snape sank more comfortably into his corner and croaked, "What happened?"

Sirius was already twirling a twig absent-mindedly. "You tell me."

The minutes between them stretched slowly in silence. Sirius had just thrown himself to his back for a short nap when Snape spoke quite quietly, "My Occlumency did not just fail, that night," his black eyes raking Sirius'. "It was deliberate."

Sirius sat upright immediately. He ran Snape's words in the front of his mind a couple of times. He could not help glancing over Snape's wrecked form again, inwardly grimacing at the pallid complexion from blood lost and contusions littering his body from who knows how many hours of physical and magical lashings. And then there was that stubborn gash on his side. "You did that on purpose? Were you barking _mad_!"

"It was necessary," Snape shot. He cast a faraway look into the blue sky, perhaps reminiscing what transpired hours before he found himself locked in the dungeons at his Master's mercy. "The Dark Lord found out that it's possible to destroy the magical protection that flows within Potter's veins. The answer lies in one wizard whom none of us know about, but the Dark Lord is determined to seek him out, torture the truth out of him before finally, removing his existence."

Snape had so far only rehashed old stories. Sirius gestured for him to continue.

"He wanted the man with great urgency and I had no chance to relay this information to Dumbledore. At once I knew that this man must be hidden from the Dark Lord – and by extension, the Death Eaters as well."

"But if only you knew who this person is and how to get to him first," Sirius said. Snape however, took a deep breath. "Not quite."

Then something clicked in Sirius' train of thoughts. His visage twisted into disbelief. "Bloody hell." He started pacing the ground. "You can't hunt that man down without betraying your identity!"

"Quite right," Snape replied, a dry smirk on his lips. "If I go on this hunt as a Death Eater, I will be accompanied. We operate in small groups – the Dark Lord does not quite trust us as individuals. And when I do get my hands on that man, I can only turn him in to the Dark Lord. Doing otherwise will give me away no sooner than a flick of his wand. I have no choice, I have to do this alone. Only then will I not be accountable for the man's disappearance. They will have no proof that I went on a private manhunt. The Dark Lord will only have Bella and Lucius to blame for their failure."

"So to get away, to dissociate yourself from the Death Eaters –"

"I had to try my best to invoke the Dark Lord's wrath."

Sirius stopped in his tracks. After a long pause, he merely spoke, "Unbelievable."

Snape turned his focus to his left fist. He strained the muscles in his fingers, urging them to close – and they balled up tight. He flexed his arm, glad to find more and more sensation coming back to his limbs.

"He was furious. But he did not kill me, only left me with enough damage to unfortunately, almost prohibit any form of traveling. Nevertheless the plan worked."

"But Malfoy saw us together!"

Snape heaved himself up. He could stand now. "He thinks I'm trying to redeem myself. As for seeing you with me," he shot Sirius a sneer, "I can just tell him the truth."

Sirius did not care if Snape was just inches from death, he would send him into oblivion himself. He advanced onto the other wizard and brandished his wand with anger. "I was right all along, Snivellus. You _are _trying to sell me out, the Order out!"

"The truth stands as the perfect lie, Black. And get that out of my face." Snape too, had his wand out. Sirius blinked, shocked at how Snape got back his wand. Then it happened to him that it must have fallen out of his pocket, hell maybe even right into his lap, when he was fussing over Snape.

"You filthy –"

"Think, Black!" Snape almost shouted impatiently. "The truth is the only thing that makes the most sense! There I was close to death, and I fled to the Order, the only known safe place I have left – even the Dark Lord understands this – and it just happened that you were the only one there to admit me! After that, it is of your own _insistence _that I bring you along on this little country trip! If you were sighted next to me by a Death Eater, of course it's easier for everyone to assume that you're the Dark Lord's second prize, besides this monk we're hunting! What then do –"

Then Snape froze, his eyes shut as he collapsed to his knees, leaning heavily against the wall for support. His breaths came out in chops and colour just vanished from his face.

"Something's not right," he gasped before clutching tightly at his sides. Sirius was at once by him, fully expecting a shower of crimson – but there was none. The bandages looked new as ever.

"Get a grip, you're imagining things –"

Yet Snape knew something felt terribly wrong with him. He could feel something slithering _inside _him, chained to the wound that, if he had heard Sirius right, was not bleeding out this time. He readied himself for pain – that seemed to be the only thing he could relate to these days – but his mind alone could have already been cheating his nerves. He did not dare to breathe or move, only hoped that this freak experience would just go away for good.

Sirius suddenly stilled. His grip on Snape tightened and slowly, quietly, he whispered, "There's someone out there."


	14. Friend and Foe

"Can you move already?"

Sirius' eyes darted feverishly between open doors and windows, half expecting a battalion of Death Eaters to storm right through them. He had heard rustlings of bushes and crunches of multiple feet on desiccated, earthy ground. Then there was this uncanny stillness in the air that bothered him. If his instincts were right, they were already surrounded. Snape summoned the duffel bag that was sitting at the far end, exactly where Sirius had left them minutes ago. Then his tired eyes searched Sirius'. He nodded.

"Don't let go," Sirius ordered, and he clinched on Snape's upper arm once more. Their ground faded instantly into a flurry, the duffel bag bumping into Snape's side painfully and there was no sense of top and bottom. When their world stopped spinning, Snape opened his eyes into a forest glade painted orange by the sunset. Sirius was still holding him.

"Hurry!"

They fled past shrubs of wild flowers and herbs, kicking up dry leaves and twigs in their wake. There were no signs of any temples – not even a single gingerbread house for that matter – and Sirius began to worry that they had Apparated to the wrong place. Snape was also starting to fall behind, unable to sustain the speed. Every step he took jarred his wound. Every step he took, droplets of blood spilled onto the forest ground. He did not notice this, neither did Sirius – and he kept pushing forward, focusing instead on Sirius' back. But even tenacity could only get him so far – and his run slowed to a swaying walk. Sensing the lack of robes billowing beside him, Sirius called out, "Keep up, Snape!" and he glanced back. Snape was already half crouching, seemingly mustering every bit of strength in him to keep himself from falling apart.

"We got to _go_!" Sirius urged, tugging at Snape's arm and pulled it over his shoulder. He could see now the top of a pointed roof, possibly a pagoda from above the trees. As he lugged both their weights forward, an annoyed voice in his head swore at Lupin for such inaccurate coordinates. It would have been much easier if they could Apparate right in the courtyard, just like the first two coordinates had done. They had barely taken three strides when he felt Snape resisting his assistance. He withdrew his arm and broke away from Sirius' commanding stature.

"Go," said Snape simply. He spun around waveringly and had his back against Sirius.

"What the _hell_ are you trying to do?"

Sirius tried to reach for him, only to find himself knocked off his feet several yards away. He swore as his back made harsh contact with the ground and quickly dug into his pocket for his wand. What was Snape thinking, hexing the only ally he has got in such a situation? He looked up just in time to see Snape waving his wand in circles. Vines overhanging from the trees around them came to life; hissing and gliding all over branches. The snake-like creepers hovered closely to Snape as if ready to strike at the first attack directed towards their Master. The Transfiguration however had cost Snape his last ounce of power; he sank to his knees, panting. Sirius rushed to him, holding him up and instantly he knew if they were to go anywhere at all, he would have to bear all of the wizard's weight.

"I said go," Snape repeated, though his faint voice undermined the sternness in his words. Sirius disregarded them –he was just in close enough proximity to notice the streak of red that cascaded from the edge of Snape's lips and the reeking stench of iron. Perhaps knowing that Sirius would refuse to go ahead, he turned his wand onto the wizard again.

"Don't –"

"Leave me I say!"

Sirius was quicker – before Snape could throw him back for a second time with magic, Sirius grabbed him by the wrist and seized the front of his robes. The spell hit a thick oak branch above them and it exploded, effectively reducing wood to cinders. Sirius jostled the other wizard a bit. "If you can talk, you can walk! So shut it and come with me!" He held his ground, refusing to relinquish his hold on the struggling Snape.

"Don't be a fool, Black – together, we have zero chance of escaping –"

"What do you want me to do, leave you?"

"That exactly!"

"You'll be killed!"

For a split second, Snape turned fully to him. He was snarling, but there was not a trace of loathe in the lines of his face, only desperation laced with, of all things, regret.

"Then what is your complaint?"

Something exploded between them and both men were repelled from each other. Sirius groaned – bloody hell, when did Snape manage to slip that accursed hex in the confusion – and bounced back to his feet. Snape had almost had it; he stirred, but did not stand up. His eyes were screwed shut and Sirius could hardly imagine the agony that body was under, still Snape had his wand pointed at him quite steadily.

A few _pop! _resounded ahead of them.

"_I told you to hurry! It's almost nightfall!"_

"_Why, afraid you'll lose your way?"_

Sirius froze.

"_Master will be most unhappy if we keep coming in late."_

"_Well whose fault it is then to dilly dally?"_

Sirius flexed his wrist. If it's a battle they want, it's a battle they'll get. Never imagining that in his lifetime he would ever willingly put himself in between slimy Snivellus and murderous Death Eaters, he strode by Snape, planting himself before the fallen wizard. Footsteps echoed louder and Sirius prepared himself for a duel. Already he started performing shield charms, muttering the incantations with precision. Gold barriers encase Snape, casting their gentle sheen over Snape's astonished face. Sirius looked back and scowled, "Don't just be sitting there, princess. I'll need your snakes for a sneak attack."

"_Ah, darn it, there's a seam in the sack!"_

"_Well, run for it!"_

The wizards raised their arms, wands aloft. Indeed, there were people running into their direction. The vines had disappeared from the vicinity, settling amidst the foliage, ready to strike at their Master's order. Sirius meanwhile was fluently rehearsing an impressive array of offensive curses and spells he would love to try on these Death Eaters. Any moment now, those fools would burst into view and start falling like flies before they know what had hit them.

"_Ah… my potatoes!"_

The first syllable of a pretty nasty curse got suddenly stuck in Sirius' throat. He heard "potatoes" – he must have heard it wrong. Snape sat up a bit more sprightly; his wand had drooped to a lax angle. The frantic footsteps approached them at a faster pace but the wizards merely exchanged enquiring looks. The tension in the air lifted promptly when two short figures clad in white robes tumbled from between dark trees. The one running ahead of the other was cradling a huge sack of tubers while the other (of a size significantly larger than the one with the potatoes) was positively heaving like an old vacuum cleaner.

A rather large potato rolled to a halt right before Sirius' feet. The running stopped; Sirius and Snape's presence were finally noticed. Both parties said nothing, sizing each other up and probably deciding if either was friend or foe. Then the skinny robed figure tossed his hoody back with a careless ease and flung a warm smile at the wizards.

"Good evening, strangers," he greeted. "Nice may this evening be, seems like you're a little bit lost in the forest, yes? Our temple has warm beds, if you don't mind the bed bugs."

Sirius lowered his wand, still shocked by the sudden turn of events. And judging from Snape's silence, so was he too.


	15. The Red Pagoda

Sirius had no words to describe the majesty of the Red Pagoda. That was the name of their temple according to the two monks who were now bringing up the rear as they make their way there. Even the greeneries seemed to mellow as they approached the well-kept courtyard. No more spidery branches between creeping vines and carnivorous Venus traps. The night breeze was cool against his face and he breathed in the calmness it exuded. Just for a minute more, he wanted to walk in the open as untroubled as he could be, an evening free of Death Eaters and the Order. Sirius adjusted the weight he was bearing on his back – Snape, again out cold the moment he realised they were no longer in the presence of foes and his adrenaline-driven alertness just washed out. Sirius recalled their time in school when he would have emptied his family vault for someone who would give Snape a bloody nose for a birthday present. He was pretty much certain that Snape, too would have rewarded his mini-Death Eater cliques if they could land his and James' arses in expulsion somehow. Safety in numbers, is it not? Or else, why bother with the Marauders or the dodgy Slytherin gang? Sirius shook his head a bit, flinging that irritating bead of sweat and also to hammer it home again that what he had was friendship, not a mere posse for intimidation. That childish enmity between him and Snape had yet to change despite both hitting their thirties some time ago and Sirius still wondered, finally here lies Snape at his most vulnerable. What is stopping him? He remembered how those Death Eaters Snape call _friends _had no problem thrashing him around, hurting him. If this were Hogwarts he would have cheered the Death Eaters on, echoing mocking encouragements for more. But at present all that he wanted if he had his way was to run right up to Lucius Malfoy and curse the daylight out of each and every one of the Death Eaters. Yeah, what gives, Sirius heard his own voice in his head, sarcastic. Perhaps he really had gone soft in Azkaban?

"Pathetic," he muttered to no one in particular.

The ground beneath their feet hardened as soil met cobblestone. The towering pagoda, now fiery red under the moonlight and hundreds of oil lamps seemed to welcome the wizards with an indescribable amount of warmth and serenity. From within the pagoda, Sirius could hear the reverberation of gongs that reached deep into his chest. Snape moved behind him. His body quavered as silent coughs racked his form, drawing Sirius' attention. At once, he turned to the monks and said, "He needs medical attention. I don't think he can last any longer."

Then both were whisked to a guest room on the tenth floor. Surprisingly the tedious journey upwards (by stairs nonetheless) felt like a second. He laid Snape down in one of the beds and then finally sank into a nearby chair, feeling his legs turning into jelly. Several monks bustled around the room – all of them bald, white-robed and speaking in tongues Sirius could not understand. But they sounded grave and none smiled when Sirius himself gave them a half-hearted one each time they looked his way. So he stayed put in his seat, not wanting to cram their working space and after a dozen of basins of hot water and half a jar of salves, all of the monks save for one filed out of the chamber. He hobbled to Sirius (who was already nodding to sleep).

"We are not introduced yet." He joined his palms together, his rosary in between his fingers. "Mister Black, I am the Chief Monk of the Red Pagoda."

At this Sirius was not sure how to react. It was probably safe to assume now that the entire Pagoda recognised him as the most wanted man in history, yet here stood their Chief completely at ease in his immediate presence. These conflicts showed up as a deep frown on Sirius' forehead and the monk chuckled.

"Be at ease. You and your friend are safe here."

Sirius swallowed. "Sir, aren't you worried of me –"

"Going on some mad rampage right here, mounting our heads on sticks?" He gave a short laugh at Sirius' horrified expression. "Surely not Mister Black, surely not. You would have done so if you wanted to." Then the air around them turned grim again; even the small smile on the monk's lips had vanished. "I'm afraid there is not much that we can do for your friend. His body is weak, and so is his mind."

"His mind?" Sirius asked quickly. "Look, that idiot could be falling over with the summer breeze but I assure you, he still has enough presence of mind to drive people crazy with his contemptuous derisions."

The monk spared him a brief sympathetic smile. "No, Mister Black. I don't think you are informed of his current state of being. He is dying."

Sirius turned to look at Snape. Dying, he said?

"There are evidence of bruises and fractures on his upper body though they are recently healed. Some of the injuries have begun to manifest again – I am going to assume he ran into trouble not so long ago?" Images of Lucius striking Snape near the first temple flickered into his memory. "He is distressed when he comes into physical contact. Even in his subconscious, his muscles tense and twitch at the slightest contact. His thoughts are not coherent. The lines separating reality from imaginary and the distant past are all blurred together."

"He's never that jumpy as far as I know but these days have been really trying –"

"Mister Black, these are the aftermath of enduring the Cruciatus Curse for too long."

Sirius was stunned. "The… Cruciatus Curse… you say?"

The monk nodded. "Surely your friend has told you this, too?"

"No, not that!" By the next second, Sirius' wand was out in between them. "You _know_? You're a wizard?"

The slightest hint of incredulity skated across the monk's composed visage. "But of course!"


	16. The Perspicacious One

Sirius did not get many winks that night. Granted it was already near dawn when he retired to the spare bed that was next to Snape's and not two hours later, the gongs resonated again from within the pagoda. Sirius rolled to his side and contemplated their journey so far, his back against the window and a brilliant orangey rising sun. It had been seven days – give or take a couple – since Snape appeared at Grimmauld Place fetching news of the Dark Lord's intelligence on some obscure means of overriding Lily's protection over Harry Potter. Then Sirius's brooding gaze swept over Snape's disconcertingly still form. It had also been that long they had been in each other's company. So far they had probably tried to murder each other at least once, but had rescued each other nonetheless more often than that. An astounding record really, Sirius himself agreed. But what he did not expect was to be quite taken aback at news of Snape's impending demise. He did not like Snape much – _loathe _the slime ball in fact – but Snape dying?

Sirius closed his eyes. He imagined a world that was one Dark Arts practitioner lesser; missing a liar and a murderer – oh yes, he sincerely believed that Snape's hands had been bloodied time and again, that's what Death Eaters do – but found it really difficult to relish in his death. Not really knowing what to make out of it, Sirius got up, scratched at a spot behind his neck and got out of the room. He went down all the ten floors by stairs, deep in thoughts, and did not realise when he reached ground level. The morning air was fresh and cool and early as it was, a young monk possibly in their early twenties stood in his vicinity, busy watering some flower shrubs. Sirius found himself strolling over to him and when the monk acknowledged him with a "Good morning!" and a smile, Sirius nodded grimly and did not say anything. It was when the monk replenished the watering can manually by scooping water from a larger bucket that Sirius blurted, "Don't you do magic around here?" He thought a neat _Aquamenti _can get the job down in five minutes flat.

"Not if we can help it," the monk replied, returning the empty bucket to a pile of others. Sirius was already showering nearby hibiscuses and tiger lilies with magic water.

"So, what is this place really?"

"By name, I believe you already know it – the Red Pagoda. Kind of obvious of course," shrugged the monk. "This temple is also our sanctuary. Not everyone embraces magic readily. Those who are ready to give up their identities as witches and wizards come here and as you can see, we are many. Our number jumped a few times fold the last time You-Know-Who terrorise the magical world. Now that he's back, I suppose more will come sooner or later. In fact," he put the watering can on the ground again, "you and your friend are most welcomed, if you decide to stay."

Sirius put out his jet of water and wiped his brow. "I'd rather die fighting than cowering, hiding."

"You think us as cowards?"

Sirius' lips thinned. "No, but –"

"That, sir," the monk nodded at Sirius' brandished wand, "is worse than what nuclear weapons are to Muggles. The moment a young wizard receives his first wand, already he becomes a potential killer, trickster,_ sinner_. No Mister Black, here, we would rather not chance it." He poured water into his watering can again. "Give a man a knife, and he shall use it to either cut vegetables or turn it against another. But in the magical society, people don't always get to make their own conscious choice. Half of the residents here have had terrible encounters with the Imperious Curse and likewise." The heavy watering can in hand, the monk turned to Sirius. "Do not judge the people here just because they decide to turn their back against the war you're fighting. Your intentions are most noble, but some people have given and lost enough."

He pushed past a rather abashed Sirius and walked over to a faraway weeping willow sapling. Sirius watched the back of the young monk from where he was.

"Look," he then called out, "I did not mean to offend."

The monk stopped in his tracks. Suddenly a slight drizzle of white hydrangea fell from the sky. Sirius caught a handful of loose petals. The monk turned to him, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I however, believe that hope exists only when men fight for it."

Sirius noted the almost inconspicuous flick of the monk's wrist, no doubt concealing a wand that was hidden in the baggy sleeves. The hydrangea stopped falling and Sirius found himself jogging towards the younger man, catching up with him as they made for the weeping willow again.

"There is a ward placed here you know, so Muggles don't notice our magic."

"Really now?" Sirius said nonchalantly, thinking of Hogwarts as he did.

"A little bit of seclusion from reality is just as well. Though I suspect some people come here to renew their beliefs. I am Muggle-born, sir."

Not knowing what to say, Sirius replied with a distant "Oh."

"So once upon a time I believed magic is the answer to everything. It's hard not to believe so from a Muggle point of view, magic definitely makes life a lot more convenient. Don't tell anyone but sometimes I peel hundreds of potatoes in less than one hour," the monk winked. "But I suppose when witches and wizards over rely on magic, things go downfall from there. They wish to use magic to fulfil their selfish whims. They hope to bring back the dead or to push the boundaries of living in search for immortality; bad things, Mister Black. Magic in the hands of flawed mortals alas, is insufficient."

They now stood below the sapling. Its thin branches were bowed, the leaves wet with morning dew. Unlike the Whomping Willow that stood mighty and proud, this young tree looked meek. The monk crouched and took out a sachet of fertiliser from his pockets.

"By the way, that man you brought in yesterday night, he's not doing very well, is he?"

Sirius shifted uneasily. The Chief Monk's words hit him hard in his mind. "No, I think not."

"A nasty curse wound he got there. Is he your friend? Or your brother perhaps?"

"Never," Sirius replied at once. He scowled at the monk when he looked up, suddenly forgetting to lay fertiliser near the weeping willow base.

"Your words are empty, I can tell."

Sirius' scowl deepened. "Believe me, if only you'd known what he'd done."

"But you protect him."

Sirius turned his heels towards the pagoda again. His hands in his pockets, shielding his numbing fingers from the morning frigidity, he muttered, "I don't know what'd gotten into me."


	17. Love Actually

The bed beneath Snape was pure comfort; the room holding him was nothing short of homely. The sky line was hidden behind tall green trees but through the wide-opened window he noticed the sky was still dark, tinged yellowish red by the rising sun. The bed next to him had been slept in – the sheets rumpled and the pillow askew, but the occupant (no doubt Sirius Black) was nowhere in sight. For the first time in days, Snape felt numb all over, that was to say there was a complete lack of pain and he relished it. He kept still and sighed, wondering if his system had been doused in painkillers and if so, how long he had left before his body started screaming in protest again. Just then, the only door to his chamber swung open to reveal a young monk who was carrying quite many things. Snape counted a tray laden with breakfast, a wooden pail sloshing with a lot of water, a rag draped over his right shoulder and a cloth bag hung over his neck that smelled like medicine. The monk returned Snape's curious stare with a happy grin.

"Good morning! Nice seeing you not unconscious for a change."

Snape hoisted himself up on an elbow. The monk hurried to his bedside and propped a pillow behind his back. Snape grimaced when his muscles contracted as he assumed a sitting position and the monk watched him with concern. Snape inched deeper into his pillow and said, "Don't worry yourself. This will pass."

The monk then loosened the handle of his medicine bag and pushed a roll of fresh bandages and some unlabelled jars of balm into Snape's hands. "I'm not that good with healing and medicine but I can help you change your dressings if you want."

Snape had started unrolling the tightly bundled bandages. "I can manage, thank you."

The monk smiled briefly before letting Snape cut a length of the material. He went over to Sirius' bed, tidying up the mess the ex-convict had left. Snape would have told the monk to leave it be and either have Sirius clean up after himself or at least leave it to him for later when the gash started pulsating and burning somewhat. Snape stilled, willing the discomfort away.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

The monk had stopped changing the sheets, watching Snape intently instead. He swallowed hard, "It's fine."

The monk returned to his task. Snape gave up redoing the knot to his newly changed bandages that he had accidently tied too firmly. He looked around the room and finally decided to rest his attention on the forgotten breakfast tray. His stomach rumbled at that exact second. Then he remembered it had been nearly a week since he had any proper meal at all; the traveling had worn him down considerably yet he had not been lucky enough to acquire proper sustenance. What they had packed from Grimmauld Place was merely enough to stave off starvation.

"I forgot your breakfast!" the monk chirped upon noticing Snape fixated on the tray. With one hand tucked under the mattress, his free hand dug into his pocket to pick up his wand and he levitated the tray carefully to Snape's direction. It skidded to a halt neatly before Snape who seemed to appear quite appalled at the showcase of magic.

"You're a wizard?" he whispered, his eyes still locked to the scone below his nose.

"Why, he asked the same question too." Snape tore himself from the food and looked questioningly at the monk. "Of course I am. We all are," the monk waved his hand vaguely in a circle.

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

"Sirius Black, _where is he_?"

"Last time I saw him was at the gardens not too long ago. He headed back to the pagoda when I was just about to fertilise our weeping willow."

Snape eased into his bed, not showing the slightest interest in his toast anymore. There was a soft scratch on the floor as the monk pulled a wooden chair to Snape's bedside which he promptly settled into. "They're not poisoned."

He prodded at a piece of bread with his wand and it flew slowly to the side of Snape's head. Plucking it from air, he nibbled at its toasted crust, feeling it parch his throat.

"I apologise for the intrusion and for taking advantage of your hospitality."

"Not at all," the monk dismissed with a laugh, "not at all. But if you'd like to compensate me for all these troubles, perhaps you can start with a couple of answers."

Snape put his toast down on the ceramic plate. "What may the questions be?"

The monk chuckled triumphantly. Perhaps he did not expect Snape to give in to his bid so simply. "I can't imagine two gentlemen such as yourselves venturing into this side of Kent for an evening stroll, only to get hopelessly lost in the woods with one of you," he cocked his head in Snape's direction, "almost bleed to death. I'm thinking, these two gentlemen must have been _hunted_. Targeted by something foul and nasty. So which is it? Vampires? Werewolves?"

"You have an overactive imagination," Snape retorted.

"Death Eaters?"

Snape did not reply, but a moment of shock that crossed his eyes told the monk everything he needed to know. The monk in return did not say anything either, resorting to scratching at his nape, thoughtful.

"I suppose the pagoda would be swarmed with their kind any minute now, huh?"

Snape felt acid lurching to his throat. The monk was right; the Death Eaters would not think twice razing the ground for him and Sirius. Distractions like the rest of the pagoda residents would be made short work of. Until every nook and cranny was searched, the Death Eaters would not stop. He had brought doom to them all.

"I should leave," Snape finally said. He got off the bed and Accio'd numerous personal belongings, like the duffel bag that sat on Sirius' bed and his own tattered and bloodied traveling cloak. Then he limped slowly to the door, dreading the journey down when he realised he was ten storeys up from the ground. Before he could start his arduous descent, the monk called out, "What do you need? What are you searching for?"

Snape gripped the railings tightly. He closed his eyes and wished if he was not really here at all. Then she came to him again; her brilliant green eyes and fiery red locks burst into the window of his mind. He could hear her ringing laughter again, her gentle voice telling him wonderful stories that had never been part of his own dreary life. He almost believed in happiness because Lily Evans taught him how. Lily was all he had and Lily was all the reason he was here. He would have given his all for her and now he was supposed to be looking for the bastard who knew how to unravel all these?

"I need to know how to destroy love."

Against his will, he turned back. He expected many things to happen by now – the monk staring at him in disgust, or trying to jinx him and make him tumble all the way down the flights of stairs hoping to break his backbone, or at least starting to hurl vases and chairs and porcelain-ware at him. But all the monk did was fidget in his place, a shadow of fear across his otherwise stolid face. Snape shrugged, "Thank you for your help thus far. I'll be taking my leave."

He went down the first, second and third step when a cold hand came to grab his shoulder forcefully. He heard the monk's voice, now stony and detached, "To be able to rejoice is to be able to suffer, and the state of bliss and agony defines existence, for when one reaches the state of utter contentment, there is no more desires and being, and therefore, nothing really exist anymore."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

"You are as real as I am, Severus Snape. This is existence. And in existence, nothing triumphs over another, as everything that exists has its own counterpart, like I said, rejoice and suffering, bliss and agony – they all come hand in hand. Love," and Snape's interest was piqued, "is not triumphant."

"So it can be overcome after all?" he asked, his lips barely moving.

"Why, you of all should know!"

Their eyes bore into each other's. Snape was still trying to grapple at what little logic-chasing the monk had set him into and till this very second, all he could draw was blank.

"I don't understand."

The monk gave a cry of impatience and snapped, "You have known love! I can see it, you have known it!"

The brilliant green eyes shifted into his mind frame again. Snape clenched his jaws, "Either you explain yourself, or stop this nonsense at once."

The monk sighed exasperatedly. "Do you not know the story? How the bond between two brothers was broken because of envy?"

Snape shook his head.

"Two brothers were born into times of chaos and discord. They had only each other to seek solace from for their birth parents had succumbed to the ugliness of war. They would have died for one another. They vowed to watch each other's back, keep each other safe. They would protect each other to whatever ends. And then, the elder brother grew powerful; too powerful that he was blinded by lust for power and social standings. He could not stand having another who could be just as gifted as he was. His blood brother, you see, might just have inherited whatever prowess that he too had. So out of jealousy, he took a blade to his younger brother's throat and ended him. He did not weep for he was glad that alone, he could be at peace. Do you understand now the significance of the tale?"

Snape clasped his hand over his face. A dash of giddiness swept over him and he leaned against the railing once more. His legs were about to give out but he must persevere; this was important. He calmed his palpitating heart and racing mind and tried to fathom the convoluted story the monk had just told him.

"You mean to say, to break love, I need to take away its reason?"

"They say love burns. Undying loyalty and commitment keeps its flame alight. Take them away, you extinguish the flame, extinguish the power. Ancient magic works in the most intricate manner, yet when we strip them down to their bare essentials nothing seemed really difficult, does it?"

Does this mean that Lily's protection, Lily's flame had been kept alive by someone's undying loyalty to her memory? He who had loved her all his conscious days, faithfully, possessively, had prevented Lily from truly disappearing? But of course, for close to two decades and forever more, he kept Lily close to his breast. He had loved her so, so much.

Snape lowered his hand. His visage was haggard and his breaths started hitching, but a trace of liveliness sparked in his eyes as a smile grew on his lips. He was truly glad.

"You are the one I've been searching for."


	18. The Doe's Trail

There, the search was over, his task was done. The man he was looking for happened to be the one right in front of him, flipping pillows and wiping dust from the window panes. This rather youngish looking monk held his answer. Snape doubted he was even old enough to experience what he had just spoken of – perhaps he possessed a Seer's blood? But Seers claim to foresee the future; they do not spin magical facts out of thin air. But no matter… the fact that he knew what Lord Voldemort wanted put him immediately as number one on the Death Eater's hit list. The sooner he got the monk back into Dumbledore's custody the better.

Then Harry Potter can be kept safe again.

Snape closed his eyes against the gentle breeze that swept against his cheeks. He was back in his room – the monk had steered him purposely from the stairwell into his own bed and ordered not to be on the move for the next couple of days. Snape had so far refrained from enlightening the monk of the danger that was lurking around him and resigned to being pushed into his pillows. Maybe just for another day, one more quiet day before he tells the monk about the Death Eaters.

But a day could make so much a difference. If only Sibyll Trelawney's interview was cast on the next day; if only his own trip to the Hog's Head Inn was delayed by a day. As for Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived who looked so astoundingly similar – almost identical to his late father if not for his brilliant green eyes – life is not fair, he get that, but is it ever justified to weigh the burden of the world on the shoulders of a mere fifteen-year-old? Yet Snape resented the normalcy Harry got to indulge in; a school of no bullies, only good sport and a legion of companions.

Then the boy's image flipped into his mind, like a movie projector that had just balked to life. What he saw was but a miniature version of James Potter. Snape's fist tightened around the blankets. He remembered how it was like when Lily called him on the landline – he had just inherited his family home and was busy mopping up a strange rust red mess in the hall – he almost dropped the phone receiver when Lily told him she was going to get married, to James, of all men. She wanted him to come. He said he could not, said he was busy that day and had to look into some insurance matter regarding the house. He sensed a shred of disappointment in the way Lily said it was okay and she understood, and the monotonous beeps when she put down her line were suffocating. He had lost her. It still hurt. Deep in his chest Snape felt a curdling ache and he wished his painkillers would work on a broken heart, too.

The monk had edged to the far end of the room, bustling around a tall cabinet. Snape watched his back for a silent minute and finally decided that it was time. So he brought up his wand and whispered, "_Expecto Patronum_." The silvery mist that bloomed gracefully from the tip of his wand hovered before him before it finally took on a more corporeal formation – a doe. She peered at her conjurer with her mystical eyes and cantered around his bed graciously. Snape watched her with a sad longing. When she came closer he leaned in, almost expecting to feel the warm brush of velvety fur. "Send Dumbledore my message: come to the Red Pagoda at once, his treasure lies within."

Her magnificent head nodded once. Then the door creaked open and there stood Sirius Black by its frame. His eyes widened at the sight of the Doe Patronus and right then, he felt a moment of familiarity. But it vanished just as quickly as it came; the Doe faded into silvery wisps and ebbed through the window. Snape's expression hardened. He had not expected the intrusion.

Sirius cleared his throat, still somewhat dazed by the Patronus. "All right." He pulled at the chair that was by Snape's bedside and sat in it. "That was your Patronus."

Snape regarded the other wizard with narrowed eyes. Nobody had ever witnessed his Patronus. Would Sirius recognise it?

"I thought Death Eaters can't do the Patronus Charm."

"You thought wrong, then." And to steer matters away from dangerous water, Snape quickly added, "What do you want?"

"What do _I_ want?"

"You were gone for the entire morning. So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Sirius leaned forward in his seat. He did not just walk up eighteen flights of stairs for a childish squabble. "Good that I was back in time to see your Doe. What did you say about being James' bitch?"

Then it was a blurry chaos which ended with both of them landing hard on the wooden floor. Snape somehow had managed to launch himself into Sirius and they both toppled off the chair Sirius was in. Now straddling Sirius' sides, his wand poked dangerously into the other's jugular.

"One more word. One more word about it and I swear, Black," he stabbed the wand deeper. But Sirius' face took on a stony turn. He remembered where he had seen the Doe before this. He remembered rumours that had circulated in the Common Room when he was still a student. It was really stupid at that time (he recalled a high-pitched girl saying loudly, "I hear that scrawny second year from Slytherin, Snape I think, has a major crush on Evans! Isn't that _disgusting?_") but he did take notice of Snape's special preference for Lily. He had ever treated her with great respect and fondness despite showing sheer contempt for anyone Gryffindor.

Snape was glaring at him as if he could burn holes in his skull, letting the memory leak from his brain – and just as that thought came to Sirius, he grabbed at Snape's wrist in time to stop the Obliviation.

"Don't try that again, Snivellus."

"Swear that you'll never repeat what you saw. Swear it!"

Sirius could feel Snape shaking above him, perhaps both in desperation and in pain. Cold perspiration glazed on Snape's forehead and the lines of his face were tight. But he held his gaze on Sirius, waiting, needing Sirius' words.

"I won't tell."

He shifted his weight, sliding untidily to the floor beside Sirius. His breathings were heavy and Sirius was reminded of what the Chief Monk had told him. Slowly he sat up and wondered if Snape was going to agree to this plan he had devised on his way up to the tenth floor.

"There's a wizarding village about fifteen minutes' walk from here. There's a ward placed over the pagoda so I can't Apparate you there directly. The border of the ward lies about five minutes' walk from here –"

Then Snape coughed, long and hard. Neither was surprised anymore at the string of blood that ran between Snape's fingers.

"No," Snape finally rasped. "I can't leave –"

"You've already reached your limit! Look, when we're there, we can easily arrange for a Portkey or something straight to Hogwarts –"

Then Snape held up his index finger. His eyes were suddenly wary and his shoulders were tense. Though thoroughly annoyed at being cut short like that, Sirius strained his ears against the morning and immediately, a sense of dread washed over him.

"Can you hear that?" Snape asked quietly. He turned to Sirius whose dark irises reflected shock and horror.

"Death Eaters…" Children and women could be heard screaming in fear. "They're tearing this place apart."


	19. Truthful Confrontations

The Death Eaters had come. They set the weeping willow alight along with half of the pagoda's manicured garden. Children and women – residents of the temple – were sent scurrying all over the place as Death Eaters shot hexes after hexes in all directions, not caring if they hit friends or foe. From what Sirius could see from the window above, there were a dozen or so white-robed monks meeting the intruders in a fierce duel. Sparks ricocheted off brick walls and cobblestone. Innocent blood had too, been spilled; a five-year-old boy was seen dangling from a tall tree by his ankle, a huge pool of blood below him. Having seen enough the chaos, Sirius dashed to the door where Snape was waiting. There was horror swimming in the deep pool of their eyes but they knew that a battle right here was inevitable. Sirius whipped his wand and nodded at Snape. He was about to fly down the stairs when they heard a sudden teary gasp from the corner of the room. They spun around to register the young monk who did the upkeep of their chamber previously, now severely distraught as he huddled near a wastebasket.

Sirius reached out his arm. "Come, this is no time to be scared!" The monk shook his head repeatedly, his hands clasped tightly in his chest. His jaws quivered as more tears cascaded down his cheeks. "We'll get you somewhere safe, all right?"

Then Snape ceased Sirius' sleeves. "Black, you have to get him to Dumbledore."

The monk slid to Sirius' sides, pulling his white robes snugly about himself. Sirius turned to Snape.

"What?"

"Both of you, to Dumbledore at once."

"This monk?"

"_Yes_. He's the one the Dark Lord is searching for. You have to get him to Dumbledore. Hide him by all means. Keep him safe."

Then Snape left. His black cloak billowed behind him, his footsteps drowned in the din of battle that was hot many floors below them. Sirius was still too shocked by the revelation that he could only watch the other wizard disappear by the next flight of stairs. He had wanted to ask how Snape was certain this monk beside him was their target and why did it seem to him that Snape had that look of submission – of defeat – as he left.

The monk hiccoughed. "Where – where's he going? Is he – is he fleeing this pagoda?"

Sirius was still looking down the spiralling stairs. He did not see Snape anymore, not even a silhouette but there was no doubt of a descending pattern of exploding walls and splintering wood. Twice he heard a muffled cry, too high pitched to be Snape's and more blasts ensued.

"No. He's joining the battle."

Snape slumped heavily into a wall. He had finally reached ground level where the fight was most vicious. He glanced up at the stairs again, expecting to see Sirius and the monk at his tail. There were bodies strewn about but otherwise it should be a fairly clear path down; he had taken out all adversaries he encountered on his own descend. He had hoped Sirius understood this – he was going to open up a path for them to get to the edge of the ward and Apparate away. Snape took a sharp inhale as his wound started stabbing at his sides again. He knew this was the only way to chance smuggling the monk out of the pagoda, taking advantage of this harrowing confusion. He himself could not Apparate far enough what's more bringing along a company. But Sirius could. So he would give them that opportunity.

He pushed away from the wall and steadied his wand once more. Walking over three monks who had fallen, he made his was as quickly as he could to the only walkway that seemed to lead out of the courtyard instead of circling the monumental pagoda. He shot three Death Eaters who were circling a lone, defeated monk and they lurched into a flower shrub, never getting up. The monk looked at him, shell-shocked having just been rescued from certain death that Snape had to yell at him to get him going. He then proceeded down the cobblestone and defended as many innocents as he could. The deafening screams of all around him sent his chest aching with guilt and wretchedness. He was the cause of this all. Why do things always go horribly wrong around him?

He finally reached the opened space where the two monks with potatoes met face to face with him and Sirius. He was not far from the border of the ward then. His steps were dreadfully unsteady and slow and he cursed at his own impotence. He did not know how he could save the survivors – there probably would be none left by the time he returned. He did not know either what good it would do to return. Perhaps his surrender would appease the Death Eater's fury? His Master still had needs for him so at the very least, death would not be his end today, not yet.

Where was Dumbledore when he needed him?

There were hurried footsteps behind him. Dried leaves crunched below them and Snape froze. Was this the end already? He turned back to face the unknown presences and lifted his wand. If indeed the Death Eaters were going to haul him back to their Master he would be having a tough time explaining himself. In his current state, his body had placed Occlumency behind natural instincts for survival. He was not surprised if his body just caved in before the Dark Lord could take advantage of his weakened form to plunder his memories.

"Snape," a voice breathed.

Sirius had appeared from behind the bush. Two seconds later the young monk too emerged from the corner. Both looked mightily winded – Sirius looked the worse of the two, sporting several cuts and bruises on his face. The monk was thankfully still well preserved though thoroughly shaken having coming out from what was probably his first bloody magical onslaught. Snape felt his shoulders relaxed.

"This way," he urged, shoving Sirius to a small glade behind him. "Just a bit farther down and –"

A yellow jet cut through a bush and both Snape and Sirius impulsively reflected it. It combusted mid-air and an evil cackle replaced the quietness of the forest.

"Ah… found you two at last. It took you much sooner than I thought. Well done."

Black shadows crept out from their hiding places. Sirius counted ten Death Eaters, all fully masked save for a couple.

"Bella… Lucius…" Snape hissed in recognition. He inched away one step at a time, his eyes locked onto the ring of Death Eaters. Sirius kept his back against Snape's and his arms around the monk's shoulders. He had to look for a blind spot in their formation; a way to break away.

Then Snape spoke so slowly, his lips barely moved so only Sirius could hear him, "Run when there's a chance."

Bella twirled her wand in her grip with mad delight. She licked her lips as she sized Snape up.

"Run, and leave me."

"Enough talking there!"

Snape flicked his wand to repel an incoming red stream of curse. Bella laughed again.

"Lucius," Snape started, switching his gaze to the wizard, "isn't this too… _inelegant_ an attack for your taste? Wanton bloodshed and torture – I expect subtleties from you."

"We'll be done in minutes and by the time the Ministry arrive, we'll be long gone… with you in tow." His pale eyes sank to Snape's hips. The edge of his lips tightened at the still bleeding gash and unlike Bella who seemed to take extreme pleasure in any amount of pain Snape was dealt with, Lucius had a distant look of disgust plastered to his haughty features. He looked at Snape again.

"What good is there in being so stubborn, Severus? Come with me. You need immediate medical attention."

He took a step forward but Snape backed off, colliding into Sirius.

"Stay where you are, Lucius."

"I lost my temper the other day. I did not mean –"

"Where were you that night then?" Snape spat accusingly. "Where were you after he left me in your basement?"

"He was furious with you. I did not dare –"

"Did not dare to provoke him further, surely? Even at the expanse of a friend's life?"

"But I did look for you after I return to the mansion! When I saw the blood splatter and scorch marks, I dispatched my servants to locate you!"

"Really," Snape replied coldly. "I must have missed them."

"But not this time!" Bella shrieked. "This time we found you just where we wanted! I saw the sissy Patronus from the Pagoda's direction. Is that what your Patronus look like, dear cousin?" she asked, looking into Sirius' eyes for the first time. Sirius snarled but did not correct her.

"What do you mean 'where we wanted'?" Snape asked quietly. There was dread etched in his face.

"Ah! You caught on finally!" she flexed her wrist and a wild flower shrub nearby burst into flames. The laughter had quiet died from her haggard visage. "Yes Snape, this hunt is one big set-up to get you to hunt the monk for us. And now you've brought him on a silver platter right to us. Thank you for that."

"Draco saw fresh blood drops in the attic above the dining room where Bella and I were discussing Fenrir Grayback's memory. Coincidentally Fenrir dropped by the mansion the next minute and we got him to identify the blood. He said it was yours. I knew you were grievously injured – the Dark Lord implicated as such – and I searched various apothecaries thinking you would stop by to get that wound looked at. But luck was kind to me; I met Black instead. I summoned Death Eaters who were in the area to follow you to your hiding spot but we lost track. The Fidelius Charm, I suppose."

Sirius and Snape glared at Lucius. He smiled weakly.

"Well, we kept close watch near where Black disappeared. Then we saw an owl coming out of a window we thought was there before it merged into brick wall again. We intercepted your message to Remus Lupin," then he regarded Sirius with his icy eyes, "that was a _pathetic_ lie, Black. I was surprised you didn't suspect anything when your message was returned with the correct coordinates. I doubt even one like Lupin would believe such rubbish. But the point is, you knew about the red temples, so _we _knew Severus was with you. So yes, we provided you with answers that you needed. When you were ready to leave the hideout, we were already on the lookout at the first temple for two days."

"Did you brush off our fateful meeting then as pure chance or perhaps just bad luck?" he faced Snape once more. "Do you remember how your Mark burned? It was not for nothing, Severus. I placed a tracker in it. That's how the Dark Lord pinpoints every Death Eater's location. But you Severus, he made an exception for you." His voice sunk with slight disappointment. "He did not tell me why."

Bella had gotten impatient. She lashed her wand in craze and bellowed, "Never mind that! Seize the monk!"

Snape pushed Sirius forcefully. "RUN!"


End file.
